An Outsider's View
by Storm Karstark
Summary: Muggle-born Ryan Laptiske isn't a documented part of the HP series, but she's always been there. This is her take on witches, Hogwarts, and a famous wizard. See the HP series through the eyes of a stranger...
1. Parchment

An Outsider's View

By: Storm Karstark

A/N: I don't own, nor do I pretend to own, the characters, world, or setting of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter.

Chapter 1: Parchment

            The gentle metallic _fwip_ of the mail slot was heard around the house.  Barbara Lapitske looked up from the fry pan full of sausages she had decided to make for breakfast that morning.

            "Jonathan! Jonny, dear, could you go get the post?" she called up the stairs.

            "Yes, mum," came the reply from her youngest child's bedroom.  A door opened, closed, and the sound of sock feet running was muffled not a whit by the wall plaster.  Seconds later, 7-year old Jonathan appeared, in his dinosaur pajamas, dark head bent over the daily post.

            "Did you get the paper, as well?" He absently pushed it on the kitchen table.  Barbara turned her attention back to the sausages.

            "Mm-hm.  Uh…catalog, dunno, dunno, 'nother catalog, this one's for you…whoa, this is _weird_!" She looked up.  Jonathan was turning a peculiar-looking letter over in his hands. She frowned curiously.

            "Well, what is it?  To whom is it addressed?" He obediently proffered it up for her perusal.  She took it and inspected it.  _Is that parchment? No, it can't be…_ But it was: an envelope made of thick, yellowy parchment.  _How bizarre_…

            "It's for _Jillian_," he said innocently.  Indeed, the first thing she saw was, in emerald green ink, _Jillian Lapitske_.  She flipped it over, looking for a return address.  All she saw was that was sealed with honest-to-goodness sealing wax.  Pressed into the wax was a big letter 'H' with minute designs around it that she could see without the aid of her reading glasses.

            "How strange! Ryan," she called up the staircase again, raising her voice slightly, "you've got a post!" There was a yell of joy from upstairs, and the rapid _thumpthumpthump_ as her daughter dashed down the stairs and threw herself into the kitchen, panting from exertion.

            "Where, where is it? Who's it from?" She snatched it, looked at it for a moment, then shrugged and ripped through the wax seal.  Over the sound of tearing parchment, Jon took the opportunity to make his opinion known.

            "Why would anyone write to _you_?  You haven't heard from that pen-pal of yours in ages, you know.  She's not writing back."

            "Fat lot you know," she said, pausing long enough to stick her tongue out at her younger brother, "Jane _has_ to write back, it's a school assignment, so there!" Barbara, impatient to see what the letter contained, separated them before Jon could say anything else.

            "Please stop bickering!  Ryan, open your letter.  Jon," she took a piece of toast and shoved it into his still-open mouth. "Eat!" Chewing sulkily, he sat at the table and picked up his comic book.  Ryan finally wrested the letter from the envelope and read aloud:

            "'Dear Miss Jillian Lapitske,'" (she scowled at the use of her proper name, and her eyes widened when the ink melted away and came back as 'Ryan'.) "'We are pleased to announce that you have been accepted into the Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!'" Silence would have reigned in the kitchen, except that Jon began to choke on the bite of toast he had been swallowing.  Ryan's mother looked faint.

            "It's a joke," she said, much more firmly than she felt, "A prank, that's all…" Ryan thrust the envelope up so her mother could see it more clearly.  Instinctively, Barbara recoiled away from it and busied herself pounding on Jon's back.

            "Look, mum, you have to look!  The ink changed my name, see?  It says 'Ryan' now, and it said 'Jillian' before!  Isn't this exciting?  I'm going to be a wizard!" Her mother continued to pound on Jon's back, despite the fact that he was no longer choking, causing his words to be slightly choppy.

            "I think—the correct—term is—witch.  Mum, stop, I'm fine."

            "It's all a joke," she declared, "a hoax!  And that's all there is to it!" Ryan shrugged, supremely unperturbed.

            "Then it's a very clever and thorough one, you must admit.  Look, a supply list: 1 pointed hat, black, for day-wear.  1 black cloak, silver fastenings, for winter.  1 wand.  And an entire list of spellbooks!  Look, here, at the bottom, it says that 'students may bring either a cat OR owl OR toad'!  Can I bring Tabitha?  Oh, please say yes!"

            "Honey, honey, can't you see it's all a prank?  There's no such thing as Hogwarts, or magic, or witches, or any of it!" Ryan got a defiant tilt to her chin.

            "Fine, then.  Go to London and prove it!" Her mother frowned.

            "London?  Is that where this…Hogwarts…is?"

            "No.  But it says here to go to the Leaky Cauldron pub, London, and ask for Tom."

            "A-ha! There's no such place as the Leaky Cauldron in London!"

            "Prove it!" shot Ryan.  She was getting exasperated with her mother's refusal to believe.  Her mother heaved a sigh.

            "All right.  I'll humour you.  We've got little else to do, and it's better than you kids lying around the house all day.  We'll go into London and look for this pub of yours, though you know I don't approve of such places for children.  I could do with some shopping, though." While they had been arguing, Jon had taken charge of the sausages.  He had rescued them from burning, and had been steadily munching while watching his mother and older sister argue.  At this news, though, he swallowed and began bouncing up and down in his seat.

            "Wicked!  We're going to London, and Ryan's going to be a witch!  Do you think I'll be a wizard when I'm eleven, too?" Ryan shrugged, her normal response to a question, and selected some sausage from what her brother had left and started pouring ketchup on them.  She bolted her breakfast, and then ran upstairs.  She slammed her bedroom door shut and reached under her bed, pulling out her enormously fat and fluffy tabby cat, Tabby the tabby, out by the tail.

            "Guess what, Tabby?  We're going to Hogwarts come September, and I'll be a witch.  How's that sound?" Tabitha just flopped on the bed and went to sleep.  Ryan shrugged and pulled on some clothes comfortable enough for a day of shopping in the London summertime.  Then she dashed downstairs, wriggling with badly held anticipation.

            It was almost dusk, and Ryan was beginning to lose hope.  They had investigated every nook and cranny of London, it seemed to her, and there wasn't hide nor hair of the Leaky Cauldron.  They had asked in every shop, and had thus far gotten no more than blank stares, and polite inquiries as to whether they were sure they had the name correct.

            Thoroughly despondent, Ryan followed her mother and brother out of the music store.  She stared blankly ahead, at the bare stretch of wall next to them…then blinked rapidly.  The vision was still there.  She yanked on her mother's sleeve and pointed excitedly.

            "Mum, look!  Mum, there it is! It's the Leaky Cauldron!" Her mother frowned.

            "Nonsense, love, there's nothing there, it's a blank wall!" But Ryan could see the dingy pub quite clearly.  She took her mother's hand and reverently touched the rotten-looking wood of the door frame.  Her mother yanked her hand away and took a step backward, blinking owlishly, much as Ryan had been doing a moment earlier.

            "I will swear unto my grave that there was nothing there a moment ago…" Ryan snatched Jon by the hand and ran in, eager with renewed hope.

            "That's because it's magic!  Come on, mum, hurry! I'm going to be a witch!"


	2. Visiting Diagon Alley

Chapter 2—Visiting Diagon Alley

            Ryan was more than curious about her new surroundings.  The place was dim and somewhat decrepit-looking, and a few people—witches and wizards!—sat around smoking or drinking.  Fighting the urge to stare, she made her way to the bar.

            "Excuse me?" A man, a withered, balding bartender, poked his head over the bar and smiled, revealing more than a few missing teeth.

            "Hello there, miss. How can I help you kids?" She looked down and realized that Jon must have escaped their mother's grasp, because he was standing right next to her, eyes as wide as they would go.

            "Yes, I'm looking for Tom.  It says here in this letter, you see…" She fished it out of her pocket and held it up to him.

            "Well, you're looking at him!  Hogwarts, then, miss?" Ryan could have done cartwheels, then and there.  It _was_ real!

            "Yes!  I'm going to Hogwarts!  I'm going to be a real witch and everything!" Tom walked around and out of the bar area.

            "You most certainly are, my dear.  Excellent!  You must be their mother.  I'm Tom, the bartender here.  I'll get you into Diagon Alley, show you around. That's my job, you know, to help the Muggle-born children prepare for school."

            "Muggle?  What's that, sir?" asked Jon curiously.  Tom led them out through the back of the pub and into a deserted courtyard.

            "A Muggle is one like your mum there, a person who isn't a witch or wizard."

            "Am _I_ a Muggle?" asked Jon fearfully.  Tom winked broadly.

            "You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" There were a few wilted weeds, a dustbin, and a blank brick wall facing them.  Ryan's eyes widened in delight as Tom pulled out a real wand and tapped a brick on the wall.  In seconds a gateway opened, and an amazing sight greeted her eyes.

            It was a crooked lane, packed to the brim with cloaked wizards, exclaiming over the items in shop windows.  The shops themselves were fascinating.  It looked as though someone had haphazardly shoved them there: apothecary, astronomy supplies, a bookstore called Flourish and Blotts, and more…

            Tom lead them through the throng to a tall white marble building, severely out of place amongst all the other shops, called Gringotts.

            "This here's your wizard bank!" said Tom over the din of humanity, "You'll be wanting to exchange your Muggle money for wizard money here.  Now then, we have Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.  17 Sickles to a Galleon, 29 Knuts to a Sickle.  Got all that?" Ryan nodded until her neck hurt.  "Good.  Come on, then." Directly inside the main enterance were a pair of humongous doors, they looked silver, with something written on them.  Ryan, in her state of excitement, had gone beyond the ability to read it.  When they walked inside these doors, however, her mother nearly fainted as they received yet another shock.

            "What _are_ they?" asked Jon in fascination, indicating the small, grotesque figures swarming around.  Tom cackled gleefully.

            "Those are goblins, sir!  Tricky little fellows, they are, masters at hiding things.  But you couldn't ask for a safer place to keep your money, or your treasures, even.  Come now, miss.  Here we are, money exchange! 45 quid oughter cover it, give or take." Still dazed, her mother pulled out a 50 pound note and handed it to Ryan, who in turn handed it to the goblin in question.  The goblin took it suspiciously, but he eventually handed over a cloth bag that he had put several handfuls of coins into.  Ryan took it and yanked it open, taking a look inside.

            "Wow. Let me guess, let me guess.  Right…this is a Galleon," she said, pulling out a huge gold coin.  Her family looked stunned, but Tom merely nodded encouragement, "this is a Sickle," out came a silver coin, "and this must be a Knut." A tiny copper coin rounded off the lot.

            "Very good, miss, you're very sharp.  Now then, the next place we'll visit—" But Jon wasn't quite ready to leave.  He dashed up to the money-exchange goblin, digging around in his pockets.

            "Wait, mum, wait!" Loose pocket change scattered around the exasperated goblin's desk. "Here, here, what about this?" The goblin looked like this was more of a burden than any creature should have to bear.  Nevertheless, he patiently collected it all, counted it, and handed back a bag containing a handful of Knuts. Jon sighed blissfully.

            Tom lead them out of Gringotts and into various stores. At Flourish and Blotts, Tom and her mother negotiated the book list, leaving Ryan and Jon free to explore.  They were eventually found hunched over a huge book, almost taller than Jon, entitled Magical Misfits: Pranks for Your Friends and Enemies.  Tom laughed.

            "Come now, none of you can do that sort of magic yet!" Their mother, however, was far less amused as she looked at the spells, potions, and illustrations.

            "I don't know if I like this at all, kids.  Who could you possibly want to give a vomiting pen to?"

            The apothecary was slightly more frightening a visit, but just as interesting.  Jon's attention was captured by what looked like a shapeless blob floating in a jar full of purple goo, but then the blob winked at him.  Ryan stayed away from that, but cooed over the luminous unicorn horns and dragon scales.

            At Madam Malkins, she was measured for her school robes, and had to be told repeatedly by the squat, plump proprietor to stop wiggling.  Her mother, in a burst of generosity, bought fancy-looking dress robes for her and even one for Jon.  They both also got hats, though Jon had to promise not to wear any of this to school, to his disappointment.

            For a treat, Tom took them to various other places: a store called Quality Quidditch Supplies, even though Ryan hadn't the faintest idea what Quidditch could be.  It didn't matter, really, because the merchandise was wonderful: bright robes, gloves, short little bats, and honest-to-goodness brooms that actually flew.  Eeylop's Owl Emporium was next, where Jon immediately fell in love with the various birds, but Barbara Lapitske flatly refused to have an owl in the house.  After they finally dragged Jon away, Tom pointed to the store that Ryan had been anticipating the entire evening: Ollivander's, where she would finally get her wand.

            "Come with me, family, it's best if she do this with as few people as possible.  Ollivander's shop is so cramped, not the place to bring several people.  Why don't we pop down to the pub, my treat, of course."

            "Oh, please can I stay?  Please, mother, may I stay with Ryan?  I want to see her wand, too!" begged Jon. Ryan nodded.

            "Can he?  He won't bother me, and we'll meet you down at the pub, I can find it!" Tired, her mother nodded, not in the mood for haggling through an argument.

            "Of course he can. Go on and get your…wand…but come straight back to the pub, understand?  I don't want you wandering around her by yourself, especially in the dark." The moment they parted ways, she could hear her mother pelt Tom with a hail of questions.  Ryan smiled and hauled Jon into Ollivander's with her, clutching his hand tightly.

            The shop was dim and dusty, and more than a little creepy.  True to Tom's information, it was very tiny, though the back rooms seem to extend forever. And it was quite deserted.

            "Um…hello?" No answer. "Excuse me? Is anybody—ahh!" She gave a small yelp of alarm as a short wizard in silver robes appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, to stand right next to her.

            "Welcome, welcome.  Come for your first wand?  Ah, indeed!  What's your name?  There's no need for shyness, now." If there was one thing Ryan was never accused of, it was shyness.

            "I'm Ryan Lapitske." Mr. Ollivander was nearly of a height with Ryan, so he didn't have to lean over far to inspect her face.

            "Ah, yes, Lapitske.  You have the look of your grandfather about you.  I remember his first wand, when he was your age, maybe a bit younger.  Pine, phoenix feather, 10 inches.  Of course, he was more of a potions man, your grandfather." She jerked up.

            "Grandpa was a wizard?  I didn't know that!  Did he go to Hogwarts too, then?"

            "Ah, me, no.  He was never that adept.  Unless I'm mistaken, he went to a somewhat less selective school in the wilds of the Amazon.  I didn't think he was ever heard from again, but he must have, obviously.  Very curious indeed.

            "But come, that need not worry you.  I am Mr. Ollivander, wand maker.  Each of my wands get their power from one of three magical cores: unicorn hair, dragon heart-string, or phoenix feather.  Your wand is uniquely you, and will work best only for you.  Somewhat like a loyal pet, you see?  But unlike a pet, the wand chooses the witch, Miss Lapitske, not the other way around." He selected a thin box from the myriad of shelves behind him and pulled out the wand.  She accepted it eagerly. "Here we go, ebony and phoenix feather, a bit shorter than normal, 7 ½ inches. Try it out." Giggling, she sent it swishing through the air.  Nothing happened.  He snatched it back, replaced it in the box, and put the box and broken, spindly chair.  She barely had time to wonder how it had been broken when another wand was shoved in her face. "Ash and unicorn, 8 inches." That one was an absolute disaster, breaking a window and showering Jon with broken glass.  There were countless wands: Mahogany and unicorn hair, beech and unicorn hair, oak and unicorn hair, and more…Ollivander seemed convinced that Ryan needed a unicorn hair wand, but each attempt proved more and more disasterous (not to mention destructive), until he finally admitted defeat and moved on to phoenix feather.

            "This is it, I can feel it.  Birch and phoenix, 11 inches!  Oh, pardon me, this box was mislabeled.  How foolish."

            "Can I try it anyway?" she asked, glancing at Jon, who had taken refuge under the spindly chair.  Mr. Ollivander sighed.

            "Don't see why not.  It's getting late, as well, we should take care of this.  Here we are, sycamore and dragon heart-string, 11 inches.  A rather masculine wand, if you don't mind my saying so.  Wonderful for spells that require a hair more power.  You're welcome to try it."  She reached out and immediately knew that this wand was _the_ wand.  It felt like it was made for her hand.  Getting a firm grip, she sent it buzzing down in the dusty air.  Gold and blue sparks shot out of the tip and flitted around like butterflies, circling around an astounded Jon and a gratified Mr. Ollivander.  "Oh, bravo, Miss Lapitske, excellent!  I believe we have found the wand for you!"

            After paying 13 Galleons and 7 Sickles for her beloved wand, full dark had set in.  Ryan left Ollivander's and walked to the other end of Diagon Alley, relishing the evening air.  Jon was alternating between speechlessness and gibbering excitedly.  She walked on air, practically skipping, if she were the sort of girl to skip, with joy.  She had a wand, she had robes, she had packages full of items such as dried leeches and daisy petals.  A bag of spare Knuts and Sickles clanked in her pocket. On September 1st, she was going to be a witch!


	3. Ben Coley

Chapter 3—Meeting Ben Coley

            September 1st rolled around quicker than she would have believed.  Every morning after her first visit to Diagon Alley, she would wake up, roll over, and re-read her letter, just to make sure none of it was a dream.  She would also spend her spare time holed up in her room, poring over the various spell-books she had been assigned, though she was too scared to actually take up her wand and try them.  But soon, after mere repetition, she had already begun to remember the incantations, though she couldn't keep straight which spell they went to, and she would mouth them to herself at idle moments: _alohomora_, _wingardium__ leviosa, _and so many more…

            Platform 9 ¾, Hogwarts Express, 11:00.  Platform 9 ¾, Hogwarts Express, 11:00.  It became her mantra. She would pace around the house, slightly anxious with anticipation. Platform 9 ¾, Hogwarts Express, 11:00.

            On September 1st, she helped her mother pull her trunk downstairs, opening it once again to ensure that she had all her robes and spellbooks and various other odds and ends she had packed along, then ran down Tabitha and stuffed her into her kennel.  Tabitha had always hated her kennel, and made her unhappiness known to all by yowling loudly.  Several people on the underground gave her an odd look, as though she was purposely torturing her cat by transporting her so.

            She came to the station and wheeled her trunk-and-tabby-laden trolley to the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10, both of which were devoid of trains.  Her mother looked around, puzzled.

            "Where's your train, dear?" Ryan pointed to the solid barrier with one hand, and pulled out her letter in the other.

            "Through there.  It says it all right here: 'To board the platform, please walk through the dividing barrier to Platform 9 and 10.' Simple."

            "That sounds dangerous, are you sure you're reading that correctly?"

            "Can I come, too?" asked Jon excitedly.  Her mother held him back with a firm hand.

            "Absolutely not.  We'll just say good-bye to Ryan out here.  Good luck, honey.  Study hard, do exactly as your professors tell you, and don't forget to write!" Ryan nodded and gave her mother and brother a last hug and kiss.  Then she faced the barrier square-on and took a deep breath.  Steeling herself, she set off somewhat timidly.  To her amazement, she passed right through, as though under an archway, with no difficulty at all.  The first sight to greet her eyes was a large, maroon train engine, belching smoke.  Above it was a sign bearing the words "Hogwarts Express, Platform 9 3/4."  Grinning gleefully, she wheeled her trolley to the nearest car, but encountered her first difficulty.  Her trunk was heavy, far too heavy for an eleven-year-old to lift on her own.  She gave a valiant effort at it, however, heaving and pulling, getting it inch by painstaking inch into the car.  Her palms, growing increasingly sweaty, lost their grip half-way up, and the trunk began to slide.  Ryan panicked and tried to get a better hold, but it was useless.  Just as she was about to mourn the loss of her hard work, the trunk steadied, pausing in its descent. Confused, she looked up for the source of this.

            Two bulky boys had caught it, one on each corner, and were holding it in place.  In the very middle of her line of vision stood a coldly elegant boy, perhaps a year or two older than she herself was, with slicked-back blonde hair and a pointed face.

            "Do you need help?" he asked, his voice as cold as his face.  She disliked his manner, but had to admit that help would be very beneficial.  She obviously couldn't do it herself.  She stepped out of the way and wiped sweat off her forehead, nodding gratefully.  The boy nodded once.  "Crabbe, Goyle, get her trunk." The two boys obeyed mutely, lifting her trunk up and pushing it in the car with strength Ryan envied.  Unsure as to what his motive was for helping her, she put on her best polite face.

            "Um, thank you very much."

            "First year, are you?" Not so much as a "You're welcome." Her mother would have disapproved greatly.  But she nodded, not wanting to give a lecture.

            "Yes.  Are you?" He laughed, though Ryan didn't see what was so funny.

            "No, I am a second-year.  My name's Draco Malfoy."

            "Uh, nice to meet you, I suppose.  I'm Ryan Laptiske." The boy, Draco, frowned thoughtfully at that.

            "You don't say?  My aunt knew a wizard by the name of Lapitske.  Any relationship, perchance?" Ryan shrugged, highly doubtful.

            "I don't know," she said uncertainly, "It might have been my grandfather…"

            "But what about your parents?" he asked bluntly.

            "My mother's a Muggle.  I don't know about my father." Malfoy's halfway-friendly air dropped like a lead balloon.

            "You're a _half-blood_.  Crabbe, Goyle, let's go.  I have _better_ things to do." Ryan frowned.  Now that was just flat-out rude.  What was half-blood, anyway, and why was it so important?  Crabbe and Goyle shoved rudely past her, and that was the last straw.  She yanked off her shoe and threw it in a fit of temper.  It nailed one of the brutes—she wasn't sure which—lightly in the middle of his back.  He turned, but she had already slammed the door shut.  He started yanking on the door as though his goal was to rip it from its hinges. 

            "Crabbe," called Malfoy, "come here.  Don't waste your strength on the likes of _her_.  The mudblood." He spat out the last word as though it were poisoned.  She could hear Crabbe laughing thuggishly as he ripped her sandal to pieces.  Hurt and confused, she slowly made her way to a vacant compartment.  Once inside, she let Tabitha out for a stretch and looked through her trunk for any of the toys she had packed.  Unfortunately, she had put them all on the bottom, so she merely balled up a pair of socks, knowing that would keep her cat amused for hours.  Then she found another pair of shoes to wear and debated what to do with her single sandal.  She finally just tossed it in her trunk, preferring to sort it out later.  She sat for a moment, restless, still thinking about Malfoy's words.  They didn't mean anything to her, but the tone in which they were said made her suspect that they were meant as the worst insult he could think of.

            Finally, to get her mind off of it all, she made sure the compartment door was securely closed, then pulled the first spellbook that came to hand: A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by a fellow named Emeric Switch.  She opened it and flipped through the bewildering series of spells, etymology, and background information before finding a spell that didn't look terribly difficult: Matches into needles.  But she didn't have any matches.  She flipped through again, and stopped at one that she actually had the materials for: Transfiguring hairpins into quill feathers.  She pulled a hairpin out of her own hair and laid it on top of the trunk, then consulted the book again for the incantation.  _Pinnula__ transformus._  She tapped the hairpin and said the words.  Nothing happened.  She frowned and poked it again with her wand, as though that might help.  Still nothing.  She hadn't really expected that to work anyway.  What was she doing wrong?  Another check to the book told her.

            "Oh!  Tap _two_ times, _then_ you say the words. I get it!" So she did so.  She tapped two times. "_Pinnula__ transformus_!"

            She now had a semi-feathery hairpin.  The transfiguration hadn't been complete.  Instead of being disappointed, she inspected her creation and giggled. "Wicked." She inserted it into her hair again, and opened the trunk to replace the spellbook when several things happened at once.  Tabby's socks, which she had been playing with happily, were batted into the trunk.  She dove after them.  Before Ryan could rescue her cat, the train started with a jerk, slamming the trunk shut, and a boy ran into her compartment and locked the door, completely oblivious to her presence.  All of this had taken place in the space of about two seconds.

            Tabby's indignant hissing and scratching signaled to the boy that he was no longer alone.  He turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin to find her standing there.

            "Oh!  Oh, I'm so sorry!  I thought—I thought this compartment was empty!  I—why is your trunk meowing?" he asked curiously.  She sighed and kicked it open, freeing her irate feline.  "Oh."

            "Do you care to give an explanation as to _why_ you just barged in?" she demanded, hands on hips.

            "What?  Oh, that." _Yes, that,_ she thought, but let him continue. "My older sister and her friends were trying to curse me.  I swear, if I have to put up with her in Slytherin for three terms, I'll drown myself in the lake." Ryan cocked her head.  It was as though her new companion had suddenly begun speaking a new language.

            "Excuse me?  What's Slytherin?" she asked, confused.  He eyed her, askance.

            "Muggle-born, are you?" She nodded mutely. "That explains it.  There are four houses in Hogwarts, where you stay for the whole seven years.  Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.  My older sister's in Slytherin, and the only reason I love is her is because she's family.  My entire family was or is in Slytherin, so I suppose I will be, too.  But Hufflepuff doesn't sound bad, or even Gryffindor.  It might be nice not to be in Slytherin." He dropped his voice to a whisper.  "You know, they say You-Know-Who was in Slytherin.  That's scary, isn't it?" It might have been scary to him, but Ryan was left in the dark once more.

            "You-Know-Who?  Huh?" He sighed wearily, but looked slightly shocked.

            "Oy, you Muggle-borns!  Apparently you _don't_ know who.  Here, read this, why don't you?" He pulled out a well-read book from his cloak pocket entitled The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. "Chapter 20.  This author's better than that Gilderoy Lockhart bloke." Ryan recognized the name.

            "Isn't he the fellow who wrote most of our textbooks?" she asked, flipping through the book.

            "The same.  But this book is better, if you ask me.  No, you've gone a hair too far—yes, that's it, there.  Go on, read it!" She did.  She read about the evil wizard Voldemort who ran amok for eleven years, gathering followers and killing wizards and Muggles alike with great brutality.  Her eyes widened as she read about the atrocities he committed, until just the thought of his name sent chills even down _her_ back.  No wonder that wizards didn't like to say his name.  But he was vanquished, a year before she was born, by a baby named Harry Potter.  She looked up at the boy.

            "That's…interesting.  Well, not interesting, but…you know what I mean."

            "Yeah, and that Harry Potter boy?  He goes to Hogwarts, too!  Maybe we'll get to see him!  I hear he's in Gryffindor; maybe we'll be in Gryffindor, too!" Ryan flipped to the front cover, and realized that she still didn't know the boy's name.  Just as she thought, there was a name written behind the cover: Daniel Coley.  She looked up at him.

            "Daniel?  Is that your name?" He snatched the book out of her hands.

            "No, that's my older brother's name.  I nicked this book from him."

            "Well…what is your name?" He fidgeted slightly, as though embarrassed.

            "Ben," he said finally, "Benjamin Coley." Ryan ran her fingers through her hair, confused once more.

            "What's wrong with that name?  I think Ben is a perfectly good name."

            "Well, I don't.  It was my uncle's name, and my uncle supported You-Know-Who.  What's your name, then?"

            "Ryan."

            "That's a boy's name."

            "You're quick."

            "Ryan what?"

            "Ryan Laptiske." They shook hands. "And this," she continued, picking up her cat with a grunt of exertion, "is Tabitha. Or, just Tabby." Ben gave Tabby a few pats on the head and a scratch behind the ears.

            "I've got an owl named Horatio, but he's in my sister's compartment.  Barn owl, he is, only half-grown.  My sister's owl, Myra, was the mother."

            "What's your sister's name?  How old is she?" Ryan was suddenly very curious about her new friend's background.  It would be nice to make friends with someone who grew up a wizard.

            "Regina, and she's a fourth-year.  Or you could call her Satan, I suppose, I doubt you'd find a difference.  Her life is devoted to making mine hell, after all.  What about you?  You got siblings?"

            "One.  A younger brother named Jonathan. He's seven.  He's okay, as little brothers go, I guess.  He was the only one that believed me about Hogwarts.  My mother thought it was all a joke right until we walked into Diagon Alley, but Jon believed me from the start."

            "What about your father?" asked Ben.  Ryan shrugged.

            "He'd probably know; we think he was a wizard, because the man in the wand shop said my grandfather was a wizard.  But my dad moved to America for business, and my mum wanted Jon and me to stay in the British school system, so we stayed here.  She'll probably write him about it, and maybe he can tell us more." There was a knock on the door.  She stopped and stood, walking over to the door and unlocking it.  A plump witch wreathed in smiles poked her head inside.

            "Anything off the cart, dears?" All conversation was immediately halted in favor of hunting down spare Knuts.


	4. The Journey to Hogwarts

Chapter 4—The Journey to Hogwarts

            Since the food available was completely foreign to Ryan, she more or less relied on Ben's advice to steer her in the right direction.

            "…pumpkin pasties are pretty good…do you like licorice?  No?  All right, then bypass the licorice wands.  Here, get a chocolate frog or two.  That looks right…no, wait, you haven't lived until you've tried Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans."

            They trooped back into the compartment with their spoils and spread them on the seats next to them.  Ben dug in as though he would never eat again, but Ryan approached it a bit more decorously, decorum brought on by caution.  She nibbled a little of this and little of that, and decided she liked the pasties the best.  Then they turned their attentions to the sweets.  Following Ben's suit, she ripped open the package of a chocolate frog.  Having a feeling that chocolate would be welcome, she bit off the head.

            "What card did you get?" asked Ben around a mouthful of chocolate.

            "Beg pardon?" He peeled a card, much like a baseball card, from the bottom of the package and brandished it in her face.

            "Famous witch or wizard card!  Which one did you get?" She shrugged, swallowed, and pulled out her own.

            "Circe." She flipped it over and began to read. "'Ancient Greek witch, thought to be a minor goddess.  Most famous for her enchantment of Odysseus' [Ulysses'] crew.'" On the front was the picture of a beautiful witch in a toga.  She blinked.  Had the picture _waved_ at her?  Of course not.  She looked up at the card Ben had shoved in her face.

            "Trade you Dumbledore for Circe?  I've already got one of him, but I don't think I have her, yet." She inspected the picture of the old man with spectacles and long, silvery hair and beard.  She looked down at Circe once again.  Was it her imagination, or did the witch look at her somewhat expectantly?

            "I don't know…I've heard of Circe.  Who's Dumbledore?" Ben looked taken aback, as though her words had severely hurt him.

            "You're joking!" Ben had a knack for making her feel stupid that she found utterly annoying. "Oy!  Muggle-borns!  Dumbledore's the headmaster of Hogwarts!  Good man, him.  Anyone my sister hates that much is okay in my book." Fascinated, she readily traded Circe.  Then,

            "Hey!  He's gone!  The picture's gone!  Where did he go?" Ben giggled at her confusion, annoying her even more.

            "Of course!  You mean Muggle pictures don't move?  Ugh, how boring…" They talked and swapped cards until their stash of frogs was depleted.  Then Ryan picked up a bag of Bertie Bott's and emptied the contents into her palm.

            "What's so special about some jelly beans?" she wondered aloud.  Ben poked through them until he found one that he was looking for, a creamy green one.

            "So young, so naïve!  Try that one." Obediently, she ate it.  Two seconds later, she spat it out in disgust.

            "Ick! What weirdo makes _avocado_ flavored jelly beans?!"

            "That's one of the tamer ones, my friend.  See that blackish one?  That's pitch.  Let's see what I've got: strawberry, cotton, kiwi, carrot, paper…I don't know what that one could be.  What else do you have?" This proved to be even more entertaining than the frogs, though Ryan was unfortunate enough to ingest a mud-flavored one that she guessed (incorrectly) to be coffee.  Ben had just spat out a jalapeno bean when someone began hammering at the door.  His face went whiter than Ryan's bleach bean.

            "Regina!  Oh, no, she's found me!  Hide me!" There was no place to hide in the compartment, unless he felt like shoving himself into Tabby's kennel.  At the moment, it seemed that he was considering just that.

            "Benjamin!  Open up, it's me, your loving older sister!" There was a pause, then, "_Alohomora_!" A blaze of light came through the lock, and the door swung open.  In the door way stood a girl of about fourteen, with Ben's features except for the malicious smile, and a slim black wand in her left hand. "What kind of greeting is _that_ for your older sister, hm?" she scolded.

            "Regina, please tell me you have something better to do…" Ben groaned.  Ryan, who was up until then unnoticed, leaned over to seize Tabby and keep her out of harm's way.  Or possibly to use her as a shield.  Ryan wasn't quite sure which.

            "Look!" shrieked Regina, in obvious delight, "Ben's got himself a little girlfriend!" Tabby hissed as Ryan accidentally tightened her grip in anger.  When Regina spotted the angry Tabby, her expression immediately altered.  Ryan stepped forward.  Regina stepped back.  Regina was afraid of cats!  Ben spotted it too, and smiled gleefully.

            "Hey, Regina, see this cat?  His name is Butcher, isn't it, Ryan?  And he isn't de-clawed, yet, or anything.  He's got a bad temper, just look at him!" Ryan recognized her cue and squeezed Tabby even harder.  This had even more favorable results, because her cat began to hiss and meow angrily.  Without another word, Regina backed out of the compartment and slammed the door. Ben began laughing uproariously.

            "I forgot she was afraid of cats!  That was brilliant!  Say, do you mind if I keep Tabby?  Regina would never bother me again!" Ryan shook her head firmly.

            "No, I've had Tabitha since I was eight.  My daddy gave her to me right before he transferred to America." That pretty much settled the argument.

            Later, though she saw no signs of a speaker, a magical voice echoed throughout the train:

            "Students, we are approaching Hogwarts.  Please take this time to change into your school uniform.  Your trunks may remain here, and will be brought up separately." She glanced at Ben.

            "How do you want to manage this?" He flushed slightly.

            "It's not a problem, my trunk is with Regina, I'll change there.  Could I borrow Tabitha?  Would she mind if I held her?"

            "I don't see why she should.  Here, she's really heavy." Ryan giggled as Ben staggered under the weight of her massive cat.

            "Oof!  Um, thank you.  I'll be back in a moment, then." He left, and Ryan pulled her uniform out of her trunk.  In her opinion, it could use work, but she wasn't complaining.  If leaving behind jeans and T-shirts was the price she had to pay for manipulating the forces of nature, she would pay it without a second thought.  Once she put the robes on, though, she had to admit that she felt like a real witch, and completed the look by sticking her wand in her robe pocket.  Ben knocked on the door.

            "Ryan?  Are you done?  I know that girls like to primp sometimes…" She yanked open the door, and saw that he was dressed just as she was.

            "Of course I'm ready.  Do you have Tabby?" He did, and the cat was purring contentedly.

            "Are you _sure_ I can't keep her?  Regina took one look at me and _bolted_.  It was wicked!  You don't like your dad that much, do you?" he joked.  Ryan regained possession of her cat and set to squashing her back in the kennel.

            "You most certainly may not.  Come on, Tabitha, get in the cage.  I said, get _in_!" The train jerked to a halt, rocketing Tabby into the kennel. "Wow.  That works, too." She shut the cage and began hauling it out, following Ben.

            Outside, Ben picked up his own cage, this one containing a small owl.  Tabby pressed her face to the bars of the kennel and tried to examine Horatio.  Since Ryan had never seen Tabby go after a bird, she brought the two cages closer together.  Horatio and Tabby examined each other, then lost interest.  She shrugged and pulled the cage along after her, out of the train and into the night.  Lanterns shown on dampened cobblestones, making for slick walking.  Overhead, a veritable flock of owls swooped over the trees and away, over a lake.  Ben opened Horatio's cage.  The owl ruffled his feathers, stretched his wings, and took off, joining the flock.  As Ryan craned her neck up, she saw a solid wall of feathery tawny, brown, and grey, but she swore she saw a snowy one.  Meanwhile, Tabby was heartily protesting her re-imprisonment.

            "'Ere, now!" boomed a voice, somewhere above her, "Firs' years this way!  This way, all firs' years!" She looked around for the source of the voice, and when she found him, she wasn't sure how she had missed him to begin with.

            It was a huge man, as tall as Ben would be if he stood on her shoulders.  He had wild, dark hair and a similar beard, and bright black eyes.  The crowd parted easily for him, and he was soon standing in front of them.  Both she and Ben had their necks craned up as far as they would go.

            "Who're you?" asked Ben stupidly.

            "Rubeus Hagrid, gamekeeper," he said, proudly throwing out his chest.

            "Oh!" said Ben.  The name obviously struck a chord with him. "_You're_ Hagrid!  I'm Ben, Benjamin Coley, good to meet you!" Ryan had a feeling that Regina Coley didn't hold this…Hagrid…in very high regard.  Hagrid shook Ben's hand gently.

            "'S a pleasure to meet yeh." Then he turned to Ryan. "Yeh can leave yer cat with yer trunk, missy.  Better yet, I'll take the little feller." Ryan reluctantly turned over possession of her cat to this giant man.  In his oversized hand, Tabitha looked like a kitten.  Hagrid sneezed, then ducked into the train, then sneezed again.  Ben leaned over to her, smiling.

            "I think he's allergic to cats," he whispered.  Before she could reply, Hagrid came out again and began bellowing.

            "Firs' years!  All firs' years this way!" They followed him down to the shore of a massive lake, where a fleet of small rowboats awaited them. "Yeh'll get yer first look at Hogwarts right 'round this bend!" Ryan gasped, along with everyone else, at the sight of the grand castle.  A real castle, with turrets and towers and everything!  It was all built on such a grand scale, it was so magnificent, Ryan could barely believe it.  "Four to a boat, on'y four to a boat, now!" Ryan and Ben climbed in a boat, and were soon joined by a small, mousy-haired boy and a scared-looking girl with long black curls.

            "Hi," said the boy, "I'm Colin, Colin Creevey!" Ryan grasped his outstretched hand.

            "I'm Ryan." Ben didn't shake his hand, but merely nodded.

            "Ben Coley." Colin offered his hand to Curly, but she recoiled, as though he was threatening her with a weapon.

            "Uh, Lelina Monsbury.  No!  I mean, Melina Lonsbury…" she trailed off, evidently terrified. Ben smiled encouragingly, as if he was trying to coax a small child.

            "Are you Muggle-born?" he asked kindly.  She slowly nodded her head.

            "Muggle mother.  Muggle fa—" She was nearly pitched into the water as the boats set sail and began to glide across the lake, Hagrid in the lead with a boat to himself.  Ryan giggled gleefully.  Magic at work!  Nothing was driving the boats, but they moved nonetheless.  This was all terribly exciting.

            "Duck yer 'eads!" called Hagrid, as they passed under an ivy-covered stone structure.  Even though Ryan, Ben, and Melina flattened themselves against the bottom, Colin barely had to duck. Three heads popped up in Ryan's boat as the fleet simultaneously curved around and entered a dark tunnel.  Melina was apparently frightened of the dark, and had the bad judgment to cling to Ben.  He shoved her away, probably far harder than he meant to.  She stumbled backward, tripped over the seat, and flipped into the water.

            The boat stopped while Colin helped pull Melina out of the water.  Ryan began brow-beating Ben about the evils of pushing people.  Their argument began to rock the boat, until Colin started yelling at _them._  So they banded together and eventually managed to drag Melina back to her place.  When Melina was safely in, the boat started again, and fell in the formation once more.  The boats halted at an underground harbor, and they all hopped out, except for Melina, who squished morosely as she followed Hagrid up a path to the castle.  They stopped at a pair of huge doors.  _Everything_ here was huge.  Hagrid knocked three times, and the door opened immediately.

            "Firs' years, Professor McGonagall."


	5. The Sorting Ceremony

Chapter 5—The Sorting Ceremony

            A forbidding-looking woman was standing there in green robes.  Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and the no-nonsense look was completed by a pair of square spectacles.  Ryan looked at her in fascination.  This was one of her teachers, Professor McGonagall.

            "Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here." Her tone was just like everything else about her: clipped and precise.  Hagrid nodded and ambled off, leaving all the first years at the mercy of this strict lady. "Follow me," she said, in a tone that brooked no argument.  Ryan allowed herself to be swept along with the crowd, trying to stay close to Ben, Colin, and Melina.  Ben, obviously feeling bad about causing one incident that evening, was helping Colin along, making sure the tiny kid didn't get trampled by his peers.  The trek ended in a room bigger than Ryan ever thought was possible.  Even the large group of first years would have barely filled the corner.  This gave them plenty of room to spread out, but few did so.  They all seemed content to huddle together, as though for safety. Professor McGonagall eyed the assembly, and her eyes rested on Ryan's feathered pin.  Ryan blushed and removed it.  When she was done, the Professor spoke, and all the murmurings fell silent instantly.

            "When you walk through these doors," she said, gesturing to the objects in question, "You will join your classmates.  First, however, you must be Sorted into one of Hogwarts' four houses, and they are: Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw.  You will live in these houses until your seventh year, and they will become your family.  Any triumphs in the classroom, or examples of good behavior, will earn you points for your house.  Consequently, any misbehaviors will cause you to loose points.  The house with the most points will win the House Cup at the end of the year.  I advise you to keep an open mind, for all houses have illustrious histories and have produced outstanding witches and wizards.  Now then, follow me." They did so, everybody whispering about what houses they'd like to be in, or if it was really true that so-and-so came from whatever house.  Colin looked as though all of this was unbearably exciting, Ben looked like he was walking to the executioner's block, and Melina looked ready to fall into a dead faint.  They shuffled into a single file line, Colin propping up Melina, Ben behind him, and Ryan at the end, though she was in front of a boy with longish bright blonde hair.  As they walked through the doors, Ryan was greeted with yet another amazing sight.

            If she thought the room they had just left was big, it was a shack compared to the room she just entered.  Four long tables, packed with older students, ran the length of the room—hall, really—and candles floating in mid-air provided illumination. Ben turned slightly and poked her in the arm.

            "Look at the ceiling," he whispered.  She looked up, and blinked.  There was no ceiling.  The hall simply opened into empty space.

            "There isn't one!" she exclaimed.  Ben laughed.

            "It's enchanted to look like the sky, silly, of course there's a ceiling!" Even when scared stiff, Ben could still make her feel stupid.  They stopped in front of a table full of teachers, and a three-legged stool.  On the stool was a tattered, ratty old wizard's hat.  It was ripped and patched in a thousand different places, with frayed edges and spots of dirt.  She resisted the temptation to ask what the hat was doing there.  Ben probably knew, but she didn't feel like having him explain.  There was a silence in the hall as everyone turned to watch the hat. The Sorting Hat, she heard someone whisper.  Then, absurdly enough, a rip opened in the brim, and the hat began to sing:

_"A word to all you youngsters,_

_who__ are gathered here today._

_Your new classmates will soon join you_

_So let's not delay!_

_Where will you fit and do most good?_

_is__ the question we all ask._

_Just slip me on and I'll find out,_

_and__ then you'll know at last!_

_Perhaps, for you, 'tis Gryffindor,_

_Where bold one lay to rest._

_Or maybe clever Ravenclaw,_

_who__ finds that wit is best._

_Does Hufflepuff more suit your taste?_

_if__ you are kind and just._

_Oh, but for sly Slytherin,_

_you__ must know who to trust._

_The choices lie before you_

_and__ you've come too far to stop._

_So rest your fears, all you first years,_

_I know what lies on top!_

            Everyone applauded, but Ryan still wasn't sure if she should laugh or not.  All she had to do was put on a hat?  That didn't sound too terrible.  From out of nowhere, Professor McGonagall produced a scroll.

            "Now, when I call your name, you will come and put the Hat on your head." The butterflies in her stomach returned in full force.  Here?  In front of everyone? "Aberdeen, Danielle!" A girl with a long brown braid walked out nervously, eyeing the Hat as though it might attack.  But she put it on, and,

            "HUFFLEPUFF!" screamed the Hat.  Danielle yanked the Hat off and practically sprinted towards the cheering Hufflepuff table.

            "Alcowicz, Zeiger!"

            "SLYTHERIN!" The list of names seemed endless, and it was only the first two letters of the alphabet.

            "Coley, Benjamin!" called McGonagall at last.  The Hat dropped down to his nose.  There was a nerve-wracking pause, almost two minutes.  Then, quite clearly,

            "RAVENCLAW!" Ben looked ready to faint with relief, and Regina looked ready to kill, but Ryan cheered with the rest of the Ravenclaws.

            "Creevey, Colin!" If the Hat seemed large on Ben, it was massive on poor Colin, covering his entire head.

            "GRYFFINDOR!" The Gryffindors cheered.  After that, Ryan began to loose interest, sometimes wondering why she couldn't have had a last name that began with an 'A'.  At least she didn't have a last name further along down the line.  'L' was somewhat in the middle of the alphabet, not too far, really…

            "Lapitske, Jillian!" She really hated her first name.  She saw Ben snickering at the Ravenclaw table.  All of the sudden, she wished her last name started with 'Z'.  She locked her knees, lest they give way, and walked stiffly to the stool and sat down.  The Hat fell over her eyes, so at least she didn't have to look at everyone.  Then, a small voice whispered in her ear.

            "Hm…what to do with you?  Not Hufflepuff, you are most definitely not the patient and giving type…" Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the stool.  But the Hat was right. "You've got a strong personality, and a great potential for learning.  I think I'll put you in…RAVENCLAW!" The last word was shouted to the hall.  Just like that, Ryan was Sorted.  Somehow, she thought it would take longer. She placed the Hat reverently back on the stool and squeezed next to Ben on the Ravenclaw table.

            "_Jillian_?" he said, smirking slightly. "Your name is _Jillian_?" She punched him on the shoulder, lightly.

            "My first name.  Call me that, and I'll never use Tabitha to help you again." The threat seemed effective enough, though Ben used the excuse of Melina's Sorting to divert his attention.

            "Lonsbury, Melina!" Melina didn't move.  Several of the remaining first-years nudged her.  Still nothing.  Finally, in desperation, the tall blonde boy that stood behind Ryan seized her shoulder and pushed her towards the stool.  On shaking knees, the poor girl collapsed on the stool.  The Hat barely touched her head when,

            "HUFFLEPUFF!" Ryan smiled as Melina threw herself towards the Hufflepuff table and took a seat next to Danielle Aberdeen.  The Sorting continued on, ending with a girl with vibrant red hair: Weasley, Ginevra (GRYFFINDOR!).  Then, a wizard at the head table stood, a wizard that looked exactly like her chocolate frog card.  This was Albus Dumbledore!

            "On with the feast!" he yelled.  All the first years, including Ben, even, gasped in delight as food magically appeared on golden plates.  Every food imaginable and more lay in front of her now.  To her left, Ben was rapidly piling food on his plate.  To her right, a pretty Asian girl was carefully picking salads and fruits.  Ryan frowned curiously.

            "Are you a vegetarian?" she asked.  The girl turned in surprise.

            "Well, yes, I am, actually.  My name is Cho Chang.  You're…Jillian, right?" Ryan winced.

            "I go by my middle name, actually, Ryan. And this," she nudged Ben in the ribs, "is my friend Ben Coley." Ben turned, slightly annoyed, then stopped at the sight of Cho. "Ben, this is Cho Chang."

            "Hello…is your sister Regina, the Slytherin?  Don't worry if it is, I won't hold anything against you." Ben laughed.

            "Yeah, it is.  Are you the Seeker for Ravenclaw?  Regina talks about you a lot, and none of it's good.  Keeps saying you're the reason Slytherin loses, you and Harry Potter." Ryan cocked her head as Cho smiled in a pleased sort of way.

            "Harry Potter?  Is that the kid you told me about on the train?"

            "Yeah, I told you he went here!  He's the Seeker for Gryffindor, the youngest in a really long time." That didn't help much.  She was still hopelessly confused.

            "What on earth is a Seeker?" Ben actually started waving his arms around.

            "Seeker!  Quidditch!  Snitch!  What is _wrong_ with you?"  Ryan was very sure, at this moment, that Ben had officially lost his mind, and began edging away from him. "Oh, stop that!" he snapped. "Look, it's too complicated to explain now, you'll have to wait and see!" Ryan nodded slowly and turned back to her food.

            After the feast and an excellent dessert, a prefect stood and guided them through a baffling maze of hallways and staircases, hidden panels and tunnels.  Suddenly, the prefect stopped, right at a blank wall.  Ryan looked at Ben, confused.  There was no reason to stop here, in between these two suits of armor, in front of this statue of a man in deep thought.  But here they were.  The prefect, a girl with curly blonde hair, faced them.

            "Through here, you will find the Ravenclaw common room.  To enter, you have to know the password." She shook the shoulder of the statue gently, as if waking him up.  Nothing happened.  Looking annoyed, she drew out her wand and gave the statue a hard poke in the forehead.  Ryan cannoned backwards into Ben as the statue began to move and talk.

            "No need to be so rough about it…ah, Miss Clearwater!  A prefect now, I see!" Ryan began to feel faint.  Pictures moving, statues talking…what next?

            "Yes, it's good to see you, too.  Now then, pay attention, everyone!  The new password is 'toadstool encyclopedia.'"

            "Indeed!" said the statue, and it slid to the side, revealing a staircase.


	6. Hearing the News

Chapter 6—Hearing the News

            "Follow me!" said the prefect, Clearwater.  She led them down the staircase, under an arch carved with some sort of bird of prey, and into a large, spacious room.  It had wooden flooring, and paintings (whose predominant color seemed to be blue) lined the walls.  The subjects of the paintings waved cheerily inside their frames.  There was a large fireplace, with over-stuffed blue plushy armchairs.  To the left, there was one staircase.  To the right, there were several tables and chairs, and another staircase.

            "Awesome.  Slytherin can't hope to top this," whispered Ben.  Escaping that house essentially made his day, it seemed.

            "Can everybody hear me?  See me?  Excellent.  Welcome to Ravenclaw!  My name is Penelope Clearwater, and I'm your prefect this year!  Boys, your dormitory is to the right, girls, you're to the left.  If you have any—" At that moment, she was cut off by someone bursting into the common room.

            "Penny, Penny, everyone's saying it!  Harry Potter's in trouble!  He _flew a car_ to Hogwarts, and now he's going to be expelled!" In an instant, all the picture frames were empty, as the subjects ran off to tell someone, anyone who would listen.  Penelope dragged the messenger in front of the fireplace.

            "Anyone who wants to listen, sit down!" There was an immediate rush as everyone scrambled for an armchair.  Ryan was squeezed in between Ben and the blonde boy that had pushed Melina, whose name was Finnian McKey.  When everyone was seated, Penelope turned to the speaker.

            "First years, this is Ruby Steinbauer.  If you ever need to know what's going on in Hogwarts, this is the person to ask.  Okay, Ruby, have at it." Ruby was evidently the school drama queen, as well.

            "So this is how it went.  I was leaving the Great Hall—I don't suppose any of you noticed that Snape, McGonagall, _and_ Dumbledore were gone for part of the feast?—well, I was going to find out where they went.  One of my sources said that Potter and his friend flew a car to school and _hit the Whomping Willow_ and are getting expelled!" People giggled or looked disbelieving.  Ruby, evidently reveling in the attention, continued. "Allowing for a slight margin of error, I say that Potter and his friend hit a regular tree, not the Willow.  And there's no way Dumbledore will expel Potter, he's what keeps us safe against You-Know-Who!  They'll probably just get a detention." Excited babble broke out among the older students in the common room.  Ryan, however, remained silent.  Was she unsafe here at school?

            "Ben," she whispered, prodding his arm, "what did Ruby mean when she said 'he's what keeps us safe'?" Ben shrugged.

            "Well…he defeated You-Know-Who, didn't he?  Everyone reckons Hogwarts is safe because of two people: Dumbledore, and Potter.  Dumbledore was the biggest fighter against You-Know-Who, everyone knows that."

            "Everyone except me, apparently," she muttered, but she couldn't shake a feeling of uncertainty.  It must have showed on her face, because Ben patted her shoulder reassuringly.

            "Oh, calm down, Ryan.  Nothing's going to happen.  As if anything could!" Ben's words made sense, as little as she knew about the magical world.  Besides, Ben's book said that…the man…was _vanquished_.  That meant killed, right?  And she remembered the boat ride, the large lake, the huge, impenetrable doors.  Nothing could possibly get them here.  And yet…

            "G'night, Ben.  I'm going to bed." He just nodded, his eyes locked on Cho, who was discussing the nights events animatedly with Ruby and another girl, a pretty Indian girl named Padma Patil.  She grinned, despite her mood.  Cho and Ben!  What an unlikely pair!  Then she went up the girl's dormitory, to the room marked "First Years."

            If she had been worrying about not knowing what bed to choose, she had been wasting her time.  Tabby was reclining on a canopy bed with blue hangings, and her trunk was there, neatly arranged.  There were new items, as well.  Ties, scarves, even one headband, all striped blue and bronze, the Ravenclaw colors.  There was only one other girl currently in there, though there were several other trunks in evidence.  The girl nodded towards Tabitha.

            "That's your cat, then?" Ryan nodded proudly and gave Tabby a belly rub.

            "Yes.  This is Tabitha." The girl gave a bored sort of sniff.

            "Muggle-born, right?  No, don't even bother to answer.  Only a Muggle-born would bring a _cat_." Ryan was too tired to rise to the bait.

            "No doubt you're right.  Good night, then." She shut the hangings and began to change into her pajamas.  The girl probably wouldn't be too happy about that, but hey, you couldn't please everyone.

            Later, as she lay in bed, unable to sleep, her mind wandered.  She was still worried that she would wake up and find that it was all a dream, this Hogwarts, with witches and wizards and wands.  What _was_ a Whomping Willow, any how?  And how did one fly a car?  Flying cars, she supposed, would be fun.  There was so much to mull over.  That strange sport, Quidditch, for one.  And feathered hairpins!  What would Jon say?  Perhaps she should send it to him, as a souvenir.  Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.

            The next morning, along with the rest of the first-year girls, she was awoken by Penelope Clearwater.

            "First day of classes!  Wake up, now, you've got enough time to get dressed and find the Great Hall.  Don't forget to wear your uniforms!"  As Ryan dressed, she eyed her year-mates.  Almost all of them had to be wizard-born.  This was evident in small ways: Odd toys lying around, moving pictures of family members.  Once she sloppily put on her necktie, she ran down the stairs and into the common room.  Ben was already there, looking impatient.

            "Come on, I'm hungry!  What on earth did you do to that tie?  Come here," he untied it, then went about re-tying it. "There, that's better, did you see how I did that?  No?  Doesn't matter.  Come on, breakfast!" Easier said than done, unfortunately.  They managed to follow a group of older Hufflepuffs, but not before they got stuck in a fake stair, and both were threatened by an over-zealous knight in a picture.  When they finally reached the Great Hall, though, there was still plenty of time to eat.  They pulled up chairs and Penelope handed them schedules.

            "Congratulations!  You made it.  Some of the first-years try to come here and we never see them again!" Ryan wasn't quite sure if she was joking or not. "Okay, your first class is Transfiguration, with the Hufflepuffs.  McGonagall's room is in the west wing.  If you're facing the lake, you're going east.  The Forbidden forest, north.  Think you can remember all that?"

            "Forest, north.  Lake, east.  McGonagall, west," recited Ben.

            "Good, you'll do fine!  Oh, more bold adventurers return!  Good luck, you two!" She skipped off to another group of haggard-looking first-years who had just arrived. Ryan examined her schedule as she buttered toast.  Herbology, History of Magic, Potions, lots of different subjects.  Excitement was beginning to brim in her once more.


	7. Classes

Chapter 7—Classes

"Mail's here!" said Ben cheerfully. She looked around…then ducked as a swarm of owls swooped overhead, just like the ones that filled Eeyolp's Owl Emporium.

"Owls?" she said hoarsely, "_Owls_?"

"What'd you expect, peacocks?" said Ben as he ripped open a letter that Horatio had dropped in his lap. Horatio, meanwhile, was eyeing the toast on Ryan's plate. She scooted her plate a few inches away.

"Get your own!" she hissed. Either he didn't understand, or he chose not to. He hopped forward. She moved the plate a little more. Ben, absorbed in his letter, didn't notice the danger his friend's food was in by means of his pet. She rescued her toast and picked up another piece for the hungry owl. Horatio didn't take it.

"What, do you only want it if it's somebody else's? I swear, you're part magpie." Horatio looked distinctly miffed at that, though it was hard to tell on owl. "Ah, so you do understand me. Back off and get your own breakfast!" She waved the spare piece of toast at the bird again. Still, no takers. Sighing, she picked up her knife and began to butter it. Horatio liked this idea better, and waited patiently for her to finish. When she was, she offered it to him and he took it, ate it, and flew off with the rest of the owls. Glad to be unbothered, she went back to her own toast and bowl of porridge.

"Oh, Ryan, nearly forgot: Could you please butter some toast for Horatio? It's his favorite, and he won't leave without it." He looked up from his letter and got a good look at the murder that must have been giving in her face. "What?"

Despite her initial annoyance, she had to eventually band together with Ben once more to find their classroom.

The only thing she found was that neither of them had a sense of direction worth spitting over.

Through trial, error (mostly error) and leaving the Great Hall early enough, however, they arrived in Professor McGonagall's class in the nick of time. They took their seats next to Melina and a friend Melina had made from her house.

"Is everyone present?" asked Professor McGonagall, as she scanned down the attendance sheet. Everyone was. "Welcome to your first magic lesson."

Ryan staggered out of the classroom. That had been a certifiable disaster! Magic was a lot more difficult than others made it look. First, they had been given a strict lecture on what not to do in class, and exactly how they were going to behave. Then, they had taken so many bewildering notes, she thought her hand was like to fall off. When they had actually started _using_ magic, however…she found that she liked note-taking better. They were turning matches into needles. Nothing so complicated about that, right? She wished it were so. Ben somehow managed to set his hat on fire, and Mel was so scared of the little _sput_ of sparks that issued from the wand that she dropped it with a yelp the first time it happened. This caused her wand to go berserk, shooting out sparks like a never-ending Roman candle. Ryan had gotten her match to go slightly pointy, but that was the extent of it. Mel's friend, Robina, had a real knack for this sort of thing, and had a sulfur-tipped but perfectly usable needle by the end of class. McGonagall awarded Hufflepuff ten house points.

"What's next? Please, nothing with wands," she pleaded. Ben checked the schedule.

"Um…Herbology with the Gryffindors. That can't be too dangerous, right?"

Once inside the green house, Ryan turned to Ben with the same expression she had worn at breakfast that morning.

"I hate you."

Ben shrugged helplessly as he eyed the not-so-tame-looking plants.

"How was I to know?" he demanded. Ryan rolled her eyes, exasperated and slightly scared. Plants that looked like five-foot-wide venus fly-traps just shouldn't be allowed, in her opinion.

"Well, you seem to know everything, and I'm the idiotic Muggle-born that needs to be led around by the hand!" she yelled, her voice cracking slightly with barely-restrained hysteria. She wanted to scream, however. Before Ben could say a word in his defense, Colin popped up.

"Hiya, guys! How's your day been so far?" He didn't even pause to breathe, much less allow them to answer, before continuing. Ryan noticed he had a camera dangling from one hand.

"What were you—" A flash cut her off abruptly, and she blinked rapidly to dispel a bright blue afterimage. He whirled around to Ben.

"Smile, Ben!" Ben blinked as the flash went off in _his_ face.

"What are you on about?" he growled, trying to grab the camera. Colin, however, wasn't quite ready to part with it. He dodged behind Ryan and clutched the thing to his chest like it was his first-born son.

"No! I've got important pictures on here!" By the his tone, one would have thought he had caught a murder on film.

"Get off it! What picture could possibly be that important?" A look of awe crept over Colin's face.

"You just missed it! There was a big crowd, and…" the look of awe grew, "I got a picture of Lockhart and _Harry Potter_. _The_ Harry Potter!" he said reverently. Ryan looked around wildly, as though they would still be here. She was dying to catch a glimpse of this Harry Potter boy!

The Herbology professor was a short witch named, oddly enough, Professor Sprout. She was also the head of Hufflepuff house, just as McGonagall was for Gryffindor, Snape the Potions master for Slytherin, and Professor Flitwick for her house, Ravenclaw. Professor Sprout, however, wouldn't brook faint hearts from anyone, even members of her house, who were too squeamish to feed the freak venus fly-traps, the Venomous Tentacula. Ryan tried not flinch every time she had to pick up frog livers (of all things) to toss into the plants' gaping mouths. Ben, though, and their other partner Finnian McKey, found this to be great fun and began goading the plant. They'd tease it, seeing if they could get it to snap shut without accepting the treat, or see how high they could toss the liver and still have it land in the "mouth." It wasn't until they missed and caused Ginevra Weasley to shriek when it landed in hair, and Professor Sprout took away ten points from Ravenclaw that they stopped and meekly did as they were told. The Weasely girl, though, she heard someone call her Ginny, kept tossing them dirty looks throughout class. Ryan sympathized; if Ben had lobbed frog liver in _her_ hair, Mrs. Coley would have more room at the breakfast table. Other than that, however, the only other disturbance was Professor Sprout yelling at Colin when a Tentacula got tangled in his camera strap and tried to eat it. Colin was yelling equally as loud, for fear of his precious camera. Ryan privately thought that it was just as well Mel wasn't here; she shuddered to think what her jumpy friend would get up to.

But the fun didn't end there. After a hurried lunch in which some fifth years set two dozen purple toads loose in the Great Hall, there was Charms with the Slytherins. Ben had been dreading this, and arriving ten minutes late hadn't improved matters. Ryan thought that here, of all places, teachers would be a touch more open to bogus-sounding excuses. Not only did tiny Professor Flitwick not believe that they had been held up by a persnickety poltergeist, but he took fifteen points away from Ravenclaw, his own house! Ten for being ten minutes late, and another five for _lying_! The Slytherins snickered lazily until they were silenced by the professor. Ryan wasn't so sure she liked him much, but then, she hadn't made the greatest of first impressions. There really had been a poltergeist, and he refused to let them through, demanding that they answer meaningless riddles and calling them "foul firsties." They might still be there, if Ben hadn't stupidly chucked his wand at the thing. Stupid, but it hit the poltergeist's strange clothing and set it ablaze with cobalt-colored flames. They dodged around the flaming ghost, rescued Ben's wand, and high-tailed it to class.

Ryan could see how feeble the story sounded, but it was _true_. Even the other Ravenclaws were beginning to eye them askance. Mostly at Ben. Losing 25 points on the first day was a blow. She was so irate that she couldn't concentrate on making her little glass ornament change colors. It stayed obstinately clear. Ben's turned a murky brown, and a Slytherin next to him managed to make it change from clear to red to blue, but it stuck on blue, refusing to change to a different color. A different Slytherin caught on, however, and made hers flash colors so brightly it nearly blinded everyone in the room. With five more house points, the Slytherin had her moment of euphoria…until a classmate didn't aim correctly and blew her ornament up, showering the class with blinking shards of glass. Ryan didn't feel in the least bit guilty as she joined in the laughter.


	8. Learning to Fly

A/N: Better late than never: much thanks to my friend Doug, who played the role of editor-in-chief for the beginning chapters.  Sorry I was late with that, but credit where credit is due…read on, then!

Chapter 8—Learning to Fly

            History of Magic was so boring that it was almost a relief from the chaotic mass hysteria that magic seemed to spark.  The teacher was a ghost, a real, semi-transparent, pearly white ghost, named Professor Binns.  Rumor had it that he didn't even know he was dead, yet.  Ryan couldn't tell, herself, but she was fairly certain that even the most avid of history scholars couldn't stay awake when he began to lecture.  There was just something about his voice that made everything he said vastly uninteresting.  Five minutes into class, she saw that Ben had marked out "History of Magic" on his schedule and scribbled in "nap time." _Fitting,_ she thought.

            By the time Ryan collapsed on her bed back in the Ravenclaw dormitory, she was completely drained by the day's activities.  She didn't even realize she had landed on Tabby until her cat began to claw.  Wincing, she allowed her cat to escape, then tore off her tie and opened the collar of shirt,  It was unbelievably stifling.  The only other girl in the room looked up from arranging posters around her bed.

            "Muggle-born?" she asked kindly.  Ryan didn't even bother looking up at the girl.

            "Does it show?" she muttered.  The other girl giggled and sat beside her.  This time, Ryan did look up.  The girl, with her blonde curls and blue eyes, could have very well been Penelope's little sister.

            "Just a little.  Penny told me that if the first day didn't drag you over a bed of needles backwards, then you weren't of this planet."

            "Penny's right.  Hi, I'm Ryan Lapitske." She stuck out her hand.  The Penelope-Clone smiled, showing a dimple, and shook her hand.

            "I'm Fi, Fiona Clearwater." So.  Penelope-Clone—Fi—actually _was_ Penelope's sister.  How had she managed to miss that during attendance in class?  Then again, she had been very absorbed in all that was going on around her, she couldn't remember anybody else's name, either.

            "Good to meet you.  Are you Muggle-born as well, or did…Penny…just forewarn you?" Fi smiled, revealing the dimple again.

            "Muggle.  But I don't see the big deal, I mean, there are plenty of pure-bloods who are absolutely dismal at magic.  But there's this Gryffindor—Granger, Hermione Granger—who's Muggle-born, but she's absolutely brilliant." Ryan chose simply to nod, still trying to mentally translate.  Pure-bloods were obviously wizard-born children.  But why were they given the title "pure" and Ryan and the Clearwaters had to put up with "Muggle-born?" It didn't quite make sense to her.  And she had never heard of this Granger girl, so she couldn't say if she was brilliant or if she had the brains of a door-knob.  But Ryan was beginning to suspect that a student's comings and goings were watched a lot more closely than anyone would admit, even outside of one's own house.

            "Does everyone always know what everyone else is doing?" asked Ryan.  Fi looked a little unsure.

            "Well…I don't really know…I only know what Penny tells me, but all the older students know who Granger is, Granger and Weasley."

            "Weasley?  You mean Ginny Weasley that we have Herbology with?"

            "No, no, her older brother.  Or, one of them, at any rate.  They're friends with Harry Potter, so almost everyone knows what they get up to."

            "Harry Potter, the famous wizard," Ryan mused, "the one who defeated…" she trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

            "You-Know-Who," finished Fi promptly.  "That's what we call him.  People will know what you mean.  He's a year older than us, you know."

            "What, You-Know-Who?"

            "No!  Harry Potter!  Penny was in her fourth year when he came, and…have you heard what he did last year?"

            "No, of course I haven't." Fi looked excited at her chance to be a story-teller.

            "Oh!  Penny told me all about it.  You see, Dumbledore helped create this thing called a Philosopher's Stone, and…" For the next half an hour, they talked, Fi relating the tale of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, and Ryan asking questions or adding in her own comments.  But mostly she just listened.  _And he was just my age!  If he can fight off an evil Dark Lord, I can probably at least pass my classes… _Maybe she could do this after all, even if she wasn't a "pure-blood."  Neither was Fi, and she seemed to be doing fine.  She didn't stick up her nose, like the twit that made fun of Tabby.  The idea she had been half-considering about running away and following the train tracks home was put on the shelf temporarily.

            It came out again a few days later, when she read a notice in the common room.

            "Flying lessons!  Brilliant!" said Ben gleefully.  Ryan wished she could share in his joy, but instead found herself feeling slightly sick at the prospect of leaving the ground on nothing but a broom.  To make it all worse, they would be sharing the lessons with the Hufflepuffs, and she was far from confident that Mel would get out of the lesson alive.  She shuddered at the thought of her friend on a broomstick.  Fi shared her reluctance, it seemed.

            "It sounds _awfully_ dangerous, if you ask me," she said, chewing her lip anxiously. "Of course, people like Cho are just naturals at it, but someone could really get hurt…"

            "No one asked you, and that's what the hospital wing is for," snapped Ben.  He hadn't taken a shine to Fi the way Ryan had.  But Fi didn't like Ben much, either, so it wasn't much of a loss either way.

            "You pure-bloods rely too heavily on magic as a crutch," she countered icily, staring down her nose. "When you come from a family of Muggles, like Ryan and myself, you come to _appreciate_…" She kept talking, but Ben talked right over her.

            "You're just jealous, and you know it!  It's like an amputee _scolding_ me for using my arm!  But…" They talked at each other a few more seconds, voices started to rise, then they turned to her and said, at the same time,

            "Right, Ryan?" She moved back a step, hands put up protectively.

            "Oh no.  This one is strictly between the both of you."

            However, she privately agreed with Fi.  When flying lessons rolled around, she was positive that she wanted to keep both feet firmly planted on the ground. _ Being brave is for the Gryffindors,_ she thought.  _Ravenclaws are supposed to have better sense._  But she dutifully trudged out to the lakeside.

            Most of the Hufflepuffs were already there.  Mel looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere, but her friend Robina was a sharp contrast: Eager and stupidly excited.  There were two rows of broomsticks.  _Flying_ broomsticks.  Sad-looking and bent, true, but if they really flew…

            The teacher, yellow-eyed Madam Hooch, took charge.

            "Come now, everybody, form up!  Stand by a broom, go on."  They did so.  "Now, extend your right hand over the broom and say 'Up!'" This had mixed results.  Finnian's broom shot into his hand, but no one else seemed to have the same luck.  Ryan's broom rose about two inches, then fell.  Robina's broom whacked her in the shins.  Mel's rocketed backwards about two yards.  One Hufflepuff boy ended up chasing his broom around the assembled students.  Ben's flew up…and nailed him a good one upside the head before falling back on the ground.  Ryan snickered.

            "Be quiet, Ryan," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "I'd like to see you do better."  Ryan examined her broom once more, and tried to concentrate on the broom floating up to her hand.

            "Up!" Nothing.  She tried to banish every fear she ever had about heights. "Up!" This worked better; the broom rose up a few inches. She visualized herself on the broom, soaring around in the air.  Surprisingly, her stomach didn't turn at the thought this time. "Up!" Third time was the charm, this time; the broom slowly rested securely in her hand.  She turned to grin at Ben, but he was conveniently looking the other way, watching Robina massage her aching shins.

            When everyone was in position on their brooms, regardless of how they ended up there, they were finally ready.  It was only about ten minutes into the lesson, and already Ryan felt like kicking something.  The girl who had insulted Tabby, Elise Duffy, was most definitely a pure-blood, and seemed to think that all Muggle-borns genetically lacked the ability to do anything correctly.  By contrast, pure-bloods automatically did everything perfectly.  So Ryan and Fi should be pitied; they obviously shouldn't have even come to school in the first place.

            "Oh, Lapitske, try not to scream," whispered Elise. "It's _so_ embarrassing and pathetic." Ryan gritted her teeth in what she hoped passed for a smile.  She would _not_ hit her house-mate.

            "Why, thank you for that bit of advice, Elise.  I'll try and keep that in mind."  Then she gave up.  She couldn't fake being polite any longer. "Just be sure _you_ don't scream when you fall on your butt." Elise's insufferably smug smile slipped ever-so-slightly.  Ryan felt slightly pleased and pushed her luck a little further. "Oh, by the by, do you think you can lean to the left a touch?  I can't see around your ego." The smile dropped like a stone.

            "You listen here, you slimy little—" Before she could finish, Madam Hooch blew her whistle, bringing them all to attention.

            "Now then.  When I sound the whistle again, you will push off gently and hover.  When you hear it after that, touch down by leaning forward slightly.  _Not_ enough to fall off!  One…two…three!" The whistle sounded, high and shrill.  Ryan kicked off perhaps a bit too energetically; she rose about a yard off the ground.  She felt silly, but she wasn't the only case, or the worst.  Finnian was about a foot above her, and Ben was only slightly lower.  Elise had successfully gotten off the ground, but bumped back down to earth a few seconds later.  Mel was in a tangled heap where she had collided with one person and a domino-effect had ensued, leaving most of Hufflepuff house out for the count.  Robina, of course, had escaped all this and was hovering perfectly, a exactly twelve inches in the air.

            Ryan giggled with glee.  She was actually flying!  It wasn't nearly so bad as she had feared it would be.  Madam Hooch was paying her victory no mind; instead, she was picking people up off the ground, correcting what they had done wrong (in most cases, it was merely being in Mel's vicinity).  But no one had bothered to tell the airborne ones what to do.  Experimentally, she leaned forward and nudged it into motion.  Like a car starting up on a cold day, it jerked forward a few inches.

            "Wow!" said Finnian, and kicked his own into motion.  She tilted the broomstick up and moved it again until she was level with him.  Ben put a little too much power in, and shot past her, ruffling her robes in the down-draft, trying to maneuver his own broom.  Ryan concentrated on her own broom, trying to turn it right and left, stopping, starting—

            "Look out!" She wasn't sure who shouted, but a split-second later, _something_ ran into her right side, knocking the wind out of her and, additionally, knocking her off of her broom.  For a few seconds, she felt that she was seemingly suspended in mid-air.  Then the ground rushed up to meet her. _Wham_!

            For the second time in as many moments, her wind was completely driven from her as something very large landed on top of her.  From what she could gather from her hearing that was fading in and out by turns, the class seemed to be having a good chuckle at her expense.  _I'll never laugh at Ben or that Slytherin girl again_, she mentally promised, thinking of the times that she had made fun of other's shortcomings.  Madam Hooch came over to haul off whoever had run into her.  Someone stuck out a hand to help her up.  She accepted, and as soon as she was on her feet, her hand was being heartily shaken.

            "My name's Finnian McKey, call me Finn."

            "Ryan Laptiske, call me Ryan," she quipped.  Finn smiled at that, a big, goofy grin.  Madam Hooch dragged Ben up to join them.

            "Lovely.  I'm sure you all will get to know each other quite well…_in detention_.  I expressly told you not to move!" Ryan slumped her shoulders.  Well, she had wasted no time in getting into trouble, had she? "Now, can we please continue, with no more accidents?"


	9. Mishaps in Charms

A/N: Saw the Prisoner of Azkaban.  Was amused that they misspelled "Moony."  Anyway, on with the story! Read on!

Chapter 9—Mishaps in Charms

            With Mel in the class, the "no more accidents" was nothing more than wishful thinking on Madam Hooch's part.  The girl was just not meant to get off the ground, no matter what measures were taken.  In the end, Madam Hooch conjured up a mattress to follow around under her, which helped eliminate serious injury.  Somewhat.  It seemed that Finn had a natural touch to flying, though Ryan didn't do too badly herself, either.  But once Madam Hooch put them through their paces, she was ready for a well-deserved afternoon nap.

            Fi agreed with her on that count, so they both trooped up to the dormitory.  Ryan was exchanging her sweat-soaked and dirty clothes for something cleaner when Fi stopped her.

            "Oh, Ryan, look at your side!" Startled, she looked down and saw that her entire left side was an impressive bruise where she had hit the ground.  She had been too preoccupied to notice, but now that she had, she wondered how she possibly could of missed.

            "Geez.  Must've been from when Finn knocked me off my broom." To her surprise, Fi began to laugh.

            "I—I'm sorry, but—but it was funny.  I mean, you were flying around and, 'Look out!', it was classic!"

            "Well, I'm glad _someone_ thinks so," Ryan muttered, beginning to feel the twinges from her bruising.  Taking care not to land on her injured side, she flopped on her bed and began to stroke Tabby absently, listening to Fi bustle around.  Within minutes, she was out like a light.

            She slowly began to adapt to this new and stranger mode of life: she began to learn her way around the castle, slowly became used to portrait subjects moving about, began to get the hang of her classes…with one shining exception.  Potions!

            Professor Snape didn't bully Ravenclaw like he did Hufflepuff, but that didn't mean he made it at all easy for them.  She could apparently do nothing right in his eyes, though in her own, she thought that she was rather good at it.  Her potion was the wrong shade of purple, it was too thin, it was too thick, she added the lizard tails too early.  It didn't matter that, say, Elise's potion was bright green.  No, Ryan Lapitske's purple potion for making flowers grow was _too dark_.  She felt like throwing it in his face, to see if it was possible to make his nose grow any bigger, but her detention stood out vividly in her mind: pickling leeches, and taking freshly pickled ones out to dry.  Until one of the third-years showed her something called a Scouring Charm, she still had bits of leech guts sticking to her nails and she smelled of brine.  Against that, she could stand a dark potion or two.

            The other thorn in her side was Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Oh, Professor Lockhart was charming, funny, handsome and accomplished…but bright he certainly was not.  She couldn't think of a single useful thing he had taught them.  And the first time they had class, the room was a mess!  It looked like a pack of rabid hyenas had been let loose!  And then, when they were sitting down, a small blue _something_ flew out and hit her right in the midriff with surprising force.  Elise laughed, but it went after her next, causing her laughter to turn into a shriek.  It went after Fi next, but she was ready.  She picked up one of their many textbooks—Gadding With Ghouls—and swung with all her strength, hitting a square score.  The little thing dropped to the floor.

            "Pixie!  That's a pixie!" said Ben excitedly.  Ryan looked at it curiously.  _This_ was a pixie?  It looked like a shrunken winged alien!  Weren't pixies supposed to be pretty, and luminous and kind?  She rubbed her sore midriff.  Apparently not.

            "A blue Cornish pixie, to be exact, students!"  Gilderoy Lockhart himself strode in, simply dazzling in bright turquoise robes. "You can read all about my run-in with these little trouble-makers in Year With the Yeti!  Now then, take your seats." They did so.  Lockhart picked up the pixie and hurled it out the window with some vehemence.  Then he stood at the front, holding up a smiling, winking picture of himself. "Me!" he proclaimed, as if they couldn't tell for themselves, "Gilderoy Lockhart, order of Merlin, 3rd class, Honorary Member of the Dark Arts Defense League, and winner of Witch Weekly's 'Most Charming Smile' award for five years running!" Ben nudged her and leaned over.

            "Which one do you think he's the most proud of?"

            Things _were_ getting better, though—for the most part.  Lockhart was Lockhart, Potions was Potions, and Fi and Ben were still snipping at each other.  Ryan could not figure out why they continued to dislike each other, and they refused to explain themselves.  But incidents with them were few and far between; Fi seemed perfectly content to stay with her own group of friends and let Ryan stay with Ben and Finn.

            But one rare day when Fi actually accompanied Ryan, Ben and Finn to class, they were almost late and running down the halls.  Ryan bumped into Colin, who was heading the opposite direction.  Ran into was more accurate.

            "Oh, sorry, Colin," she said, hurriedly gathering his books and shoving them at him.  While he was assuring her that it was all right, a second-year leaned over and joined the effort.  She looked up…and nearly dropped her books herself.

            It was the boy who lived two streets down, the one old Mrs. Figg used to look after.  She had never really seen him up close before, but she could still recognize him.  He looked at her with bright green eyes, though his glasses were fixed, not held together with tape.

            "You know Colin?" he asked, "You're not a Gryffindor, are you?" She shook her head numbly.

            "No.  Ravenclaw.  I met Colin on the boat ride across the lake."

            "Ah, you're his friend?  That's good.  I'll see you around, maybe." Then he walked off, with a tall red-headed boy and a girl with out-of-control brown hair.  Colin followed them like a faithful puppy.  Finn was nearly gibbering.

            "_Wow._ Ryan, do you realize that was—"

            "Harry Potter," chorused Ben and Fi.  Fi glared at Ben for stealing her thunder, but Ben didn't even notice.  "There, you've seen him.  _That's_ Harry Potter." She watched him go.  That was the boy who defeated You-Know-Who, not once, but twice?  He didn't look like he could defeat anyone, honestly, he was not much taller than Ryan herself, and sort of skinny…

            "Ben, Finn, Fi, guess what?  Potter lives two streets down from me, back home!  I never knew that was him!" Finn was in little short of hero-worship of Harry, and the joy this news caused was something akin to the Germans after the fall of the Berlin Wall.

            "What?  You must be joking!  That's amazing!  Do you know him, then?  Wow!" She elbowed him to keep him quiet, or he'd go on for days.

            "No, I _don't _know him!  My neighbor, Mrs. Figg, she used to look after him when his aunt and uncle were away.  I've never spoken to him before in my life…I used to see him at school, though.  He got into trouble a couple times, something about climbing school buildings—" This was brushed aside by Finn impatiently.  Now he was in what could only be described as fits of joy.

            "You actually went to _school_ with him?!" Ben shoved Finn aside and placed himself in between, butting Fi out of the circle.

            "Could we possibly get to Charms, please?"

            Charms had gotten better since the disastrous poltergeist incident.  She had only a minimal talent for Charms—Transfiguration was really more her subject—but she was improving.  She had finally mastered the color-changing charm (the ornament now hung above her bed) and had only missed one homework assignment.  Today, they were going to make things fly.  She was eager to try this new skill, but worried about Ben; he was absolutely dismal, and had a penchant for trouble with this class.  Who knew what might happen?

            "Now, students!" squeaked Flitwick, "remember that nice wrist movement!"

            "Swish and flick," they chorused, demonstrating.  Ryan swished and flicked impatiently.  She wanted Flitwick to stop talking so she could try.

            "Enunciate clearly…pair up…go!" Ryan and Ben stared perplexed at the feather for a moment, then Ryan swished and flicked.

            "_Wingardium leviosa_!" Absolutely nothing happened.  While Ben took his turn, she looked around at her classmates.  Finn was paired with Luna Lovegood, a girl Ryan was positive was half-mad.  As it was, Luna was staring dreamily out the window while Finn was beating at the feather uselessly with his wand.  Ryan was about to turn back around and take another turn with the spell when,

            _Splat!_  Something splattered against the back of her head.  She whirled around, looking at all the students behind her.

            A Slytherin girl, the same one whose ornament had been shattered after her triumph, was sitting behind her, both hands over her mouth, obviously horrified.

            "Oh," she squeaked, "Oh, I'm so sorry!  The spell…I missed…it hit my ink bottle…" Ryan felt her jaw drop.

            "Ink?" she yelled in abject horror, "What color is it?"

            "It…it changes colors…"the girl trailed off weakly.  Fed up, Ryan threw the now-empty bottle back at the girl.  She felt instantly sorry, and was glad that anger had misguided her aim.  She felt even sorrier when Flitwick swooped down on her.

            "Five points from Ravenclaw, Miss Laptiske!" Her mouth dropped open yet again, and she momentarily forgot her anger at the Slytherin girl.

            "But…but Professor!  _My hair is changing colors_!"

            "That is no excuse for throwing things at your classmates." Whatever reply she might have made was cut off by Ben yanking her hair a little harder than strictly necessary.

            "Wicked!  Ryan, your hair must've been soaked!  It's blue…and green…and red…" She regained possession of her hair and turned to the girl.

            "I really am sorry," she said.  To her surprise, she was sincere.

            "I almost believe you are, Miss Laptiske.  Now, shake hands with Miss O'Reilly."

            "…and pink…and orange…" Ben was still fascinated by her hair.  She shook hands.

            "Excellent!  A point to Ravenclaw.  Everyone, back to work!"

            "Green again…yellow…purple…" Ryan blocked out his voice, or tried to.

            "_Wingardium leviosa_!" she yelled, and she wasn't alone.  She and Finn both levitated their feathers.  Giggling, she guided it over and tickled his nose.  He swatted it away and returned the favor.  Then she moved it over to Ben, in an effort to get him to shut up.

            "…brown…and turquoise…and, _achoo_!" The sneeze broke the spell, and her feather drifted slowly down to the desk.

            "Oh, well done, McKey!" exclaimed Flitwick, hurrying over after noticing Finn.  Ryan scowled.  That was a bit late on the Professor's part, in her opinion.  Ben laughed as Finn, surprised, caused the feather to drop with a very un-feather-like _thunk_.  Luna looked to her partner with big, slightly bulging, insane-looking grey eyes.

            "Oh dear, that feather doesn't look very useable, does it?"  As it was starting to melt, Finn couldn't deny the truth of that.  Ben laughed even harder, until Flitwick turned to him.

            "Let's see you perform it, Mister Coley."  Ben swished, but forgot to flick.  The feather quivered for a moment, then fell still. "Almost!  Come now, once—" He never finished the word _more_, because a stray spell blasted into him, causing him to fly across the room.  Ryan was impressed; she didn't think she was strong enough to lift even tiny Flitwick, never mind throw him across the room, even by accident.  The break bell rang, and everyone rushed out before he recovered, lest they be accused of doing the deed.  Ben, it seemed, had managed to escape extra homework.  The Slytherin girl, O'Reilly, walked away before Ryan could talk to her; whether by accident or design, she wasn't sure.  She really did want to talk to her, though.

            "She's a _Slytherin_," said Ben, exasperated.  "Just stay well away from her.  Oh, your hair color is starting to speed up with it's color changes.  How are you going to get that out, anyway?"

            "Wash it, I suppose.  It's just ink, right?" Her hair was garnering some attention in the halls, and not all of it was negative.  Several girls demanded to know what spell she had used.  When she had explained about the ink, some looked put out, but some actually looked _thoughtful_.  They actually looked interested!  Did they honestly think she had done this on purpose?  Some people were inexplicably strange.

            Colin nearly left his skin with excitement when he saw her hair, and, of course, took several pictures with his ever-present camera.  She considered ripping the film out, but figured the attempt would be futile.  She just wanted to get into a shower and scrub until every last speck of ink was gone.

            But, like everything since coming to Hogwarts, it wouldn't be quite that easy.  After several rinsings and applications of shampoo, the stickiness that denoted ink was gone…but the enchantment still lingered in her hair.  Was this school _ever_ going to catch her a break?  Fi thought it was interesting, but that was Fi.  She'd think sprouting wings on her face would be interesting.  As it was, Ryan now had to walk around school with her color-shifting hair gathering attention at every turn.  To make her feel better, Fi stole Elise's color-changing ink and soaked the ringlets surrounding her face, then the tips of the rest of her hair so it, too, flashed different colors.  When Penelope caught sight of her little sister in the common room the next morning, she staged a shrieking fit for all to see.

            "What on earth were you thinking?" she yelled, "When mum hears, she'll go ballistic—"

            "Penny, I was just trying to make Ryan feel better, you see, because—"

            "Then buy her a chocolate frog, or something, don't mutilate your appearance!  Come here, I'm doing a Severing Charm right now!" Fi screamed and dodged away.  "Fiona Clearwater, you get back here!" Ryan drew her wand (but what was she going to do, turn Penelope into a needle?) but Finn was the faster thinker.

            "Wait!  No, it's their Halloween costume!" Penny glared suspiciously at Finn, who hurriedly stepped on Ryan's toes.  She tried to act like this was the plan the entire time.

            "Wha?  Ow…I mean, oh…yeah, well, we were just…you know…getting into the spirit of things?  Yeah, we're…we're disco balls!" Several people snickered, and Penelope let go of Fi's hair reluctantly.

            "Well…there's nothing in the rule books that says you can't…but as your sister, Fi, I—" But Fi had seized her opportunity to escape and had already left.  Ryan followed quickly, lest she find herself bald because of Penelope's bad mood.


	10. Mrs Coley's Letter

Chapter 10—Mrs. Coley's Letter

"Finn, you're brilliant," said Fi, when they made it to the Great Hall for breakfast. "D'you know, I completely forgot it was Halloween!" Finn grinned his goofy grin and tugged on one of her flashing curls, watching it bounce back.

"Lucky I didn't! I'm a walking calendar, you know."

"That can be arranged," hissed Penelope as she walked by, fingering her wand. Finn paled visibly.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters, Finn?" asked Ben, who cast a look at a sleepy Cho before loading his plate with kippers and eggs. Finn shook his head, causing his long blonde hair to swish into his eyes.

"Nope, not me." Ryan, Ben, and Fi both sighed audibly.

"Lucky," they said at the same time.

"You know," said Ryan, deciding a change of subject was in order, "you'd think that, since Flitwick is our Head of House, he'd be a little nicer to us. Me. Look at Snape, he _loves_ the Slytherins! Did you hear that one of the second-years there tried to curse a second-year Gryffindor, and Snape didn't do a thing? Or maybe it was the other way around, I can't remember…"

"You'd think," said Ben sympathetically, in between bites of a rough sandwich he had created of toast and eggs.

"Well, I don't think he's that bad," protested Fi. Ben rolled his eyes over his breakfast.

"Lemme guess, Snape is Father Christmas?" he snapped, his mouth half-full. Finn choked on bites of his own breakfast. Ryan pounded his back.

"I didn't say that!" she objected, but Ben had already turned away. Finn swallowed, took a sip of juice, and tried to smooth things over.

"I'm sure Ben didn't mean that," he said, clapping a hand over Ben's mouth, "and yes, Flitwick is just fine," he added, clapping his other hand over Ryan's mouth. The post came, then, giving them all an excuse to drop the argument. Horatio dropped in front of Ben and Finn's owl, letterless but hungry, dropped in as well. Horatio, relieved of his letter, snatched Fi's toast and took off for the owlery. Ben turned the letter over, frowning. Then he turned to Ryan and extended his arm out.

"Ryan…it's for you…It's my mother's handwriting, but it's addressed to you." Ryan frowned as well and took it. Sure enough, the words "Ryan Lapitske, Ravenclaw table, Great Hall" were written on the front in a straight, strictly-formed hand. She broke open the seal, unfolded the letter and proceeded to read in between bites of porridge:

_Miss Lapitske,_

_ My name is Aloys Coley. My son Benjamin has written to me at length about yourself and this other boy, your fellow **Ravenclaw**_ (it seemed to her that there was a slight tear in the page, as though Mrs. Coley had pressed rather hard)_, Finnian McKey. I understand yourself to be of Muggle descent, and Mr. McKey to be of half-blood._

_ Benjamin is by most accounts a good boy, though not quite up to the family standards. However, I must question if it is healthy for a girl your age to socialize only with young men. It may be that you fancy one of these boys. Be that as it may, I highly recommend association with other girls, if only for your social well-being. I am acquainted, for example, with a Mrs. Duffy, and her daughter Elise is in Ravenclaw as well. Perhaps you already know her. I believe she would make a more suitable companion for you instead of my son and Mr. McKey._

_ In closing, only let me say that my son may not be a choice friend for you. I urge you greatly to leave him to his sister's loving care and expand your horizons._

_ Cordially,_

_ Aloys Coley_

Ryan laughed and tossed it at Ben. What a silly-sounding letter.

"Your mum is concerned for my horizons," she said lightly. Ben read it and had the opposite reaction. He touched his wand to it then and there, setting it alight, much to the dismay of those sitting around him. He paid their complaints no mind.

"I can't believe it…my own mother…she would _do_ this to me…" Ryan wasn't sure why he was so upset.

"So she's afraid I'm anti-social, what's new?" Ben shook his head violently.

"No, no, no, it's more than that! She's politely telling you to get lost. She doesn't want you to be friends with me anymore!" Ryan frowned. She certainly hadn't gotten _that_ out of the letter.

"How do you figure?" she asked, finishing off the porridge and picking up her books, preparing to go to class.

"You honestly couldn't see it? She was doing everything in her power to make you hit the road! I'm 'not up to the family standard' because I'm not in Slytherin!" She thought about the letter again, though she couldn't read it now that Ben had burned it. Well…maybe…

"I guess I see it now…but…how did you know that?"

"I live with the woman, remember?" he said wearily. "In my family, you're bloody raised on double-talk like that. I know what she means." Ryan shrugged and began to walk off. Ben followed, leaving Finn and Fi still at the table.

"Well, how's this sound: during break, help me write a letter back to her that's just as vague, but it sounds like I'm leaving you for a better option. Would that make you feel better?" Interestingly enough, he actually seemed to perk up.

"Yeah, I could do that. During break, you say? I'd love to do that." At least he was happy now. Ben was boring when he was all moody.

Herbology was extra-hectic. Finn and Fi caught up with them, and Colin would not be satisfied until he had taken more pictures of Ryan and Fi's hair together with his ever-present camera. But, as luck would have it, the plants they were studying that day were sensitive to light, and when his camera flashed, they went ballistic and tried to strangle everyone. Everyone evacuated the greenhouse until the plants calmed down, and Colin received a detention and a tongue-lashing from Professor Sprout.

"Flashing a camera around! How foolish could you be?" Colin murmured something. Sprout was not appeased in the least. "Son of a milkman or son of the Minister of Magic himself, do _not_ use light around Devil's Snare!" Ginny Weasely spoke up hesitantly on Colin's behalf.

"P—Professor? Do you really think he deserves detention? He—he _did_ find out how to combat the Snare…"

"Correction, he nearly strangled half the first years!" she snarled. Then, "Five points to Gryffindor, Creevey, but you still serve that detention! Now, thank Miss Weasely and put that camera away." Colin did so.

By the end of class, though, the Snare still hadn't calmed down enough to work with, so they reviewed puffapods instead, though Professor Sprout refused to let them touch anything. Ryan thought that was a shame; they were very pretty and shimmery.

"You don't actually work with puffapods until your second year," she explained, "but it's the safest thing we have to study, under the circumstances." She glared at Colin, who shuffled guiltily.


	11. Exploding Potions

A/N: I've added a new little sidenote to this story, you can find it in my profile. It's called Etymology of "An Outsider's View, because I really did put more time into this fanfic than is strictly necessary. If people would like to read that, just so my hard work doesn't go completely unnoticed, that would be great. Read on!

Chapter 11—Exploding Potions

After Herbology, though, the day seemed to drag on, nothing terribly exciting. Unless, of course, you counted Lockhart nearly scalping her, insisting her knew "just the spell!" to return her hair to normal.

Now, her nails changed colors, as well as her hair. She wanted to scream, especially when Fi suggested asking Professor Snape for help.

"Please, Ryan, if this annoys you so much! He's a Potions master, her probably knows what they put into the ink, and what antidote to use! He's the logical person to ask." As much as Ryan hated to admit it, she had a point. So, she hurried down to the dungeons to get to class early.

"P—Professor? Professor Snape?" He turned his eyes unblinkingly on her.

"Yes?" His cold voice nearly sent her scampering back to Fi and Ben, but she held her ground, glancing down at her nails and remembering why she was here.

"Could—could you…do you know how…to stop this?" She gestured to her hair with flashing fingers.

"How did it happen?" he asked quietly.

"Well, you see, the hair and nails are two different things…my hair, it got drenched in color-changing ink in Charms, when this girl's spell missed the feather and—" she stopped herself. She was babbling. "Anyway, the hair was from the ink. My nails were because Professor Lockhart did that on accident, trying to change my hair back to normal."

"Show me your fingernails," he instructed. She extended her fingers toward him. He tapped each of her nails in turn with his wand, and they were back to their original state. Perhaps even cleaner than before. "Any _competent_ teacher could have reversed Gilderoy's failure," he informed her, grimacing slightly. "For your hair…you tried washing the ink out?"

"Yeah, I did, but it's still changing colors!"

"Stop whining, Miss Lapitske. Wait here and do not touch anything." She was more than happy to reassure him on that count. She was scared to touch any of the creepy slimy things he had on his desk. Snape disappeared into his office, then returned a moment later with a green glass vial, which he handed to her. "Wash your hair with this tonight. It will get rid of that distraction."

"Th—thank you, Professor," she stammered, stowing the vial away in her robe pocket, glad that he hadn't lashed out at her. All he said was,

"Sit down before I take points from Ravenclaw." She thunked down without comment in her usual seat, in between Ben and Finn. Fi had stayed long enough to make sure Ryan was still in one piece, then drifted off to avoid further contact with Ben. Ryan was fine with that, personally; whatever kept the peace.

But the rest of the Ravenclaws eventually trickled in, and Ryan was painfully aware of how her hair was even more apparent in the gloom that seemed permanent in dungeons.

"Today, we shall be making a simple sleeping potion. Simple…for some, that is. It is not very potent, and, when drunk, will only keep the drinker asleep for an hour or so. Instructions…ingredients…are in their usual place. Begin." Ryan was paired with Luna, which couldn't bode well for Ryan's grade.

"Shall you get the ingredients, or shall I?" asked Luna, in her normal dreamy state. Ryan jumped slightly. Those eyes of hers really were creepy, especially since she didn't seem to blink.

"Uh…why don't you get them? I'll get the cauldron ready." Luna nodded, as though she expected no less, and wandered off to the supply cabinet. Ryan personally didn't trust Luna around flame, so she lit the fire under the cauldron. Luna returned, juggling an armful of various pouches and packages.

"Oh, catch that!" With a quick move that belied her normal absentmindedness, Luna solved her own problem by shifting all her contents onto the desk and catching the packet of asphodel that had slipped from her grasp. Ryan raised her eyebrows, impressed in spite of herself. She had barely even had time to register that the asphodel had fallen; she probably never would have been able to catch it.

"Nice catch," she said, grinning slightly. Luna sat down, supremely unruffled at having rescued the key ingredient of the potion.

"Thank you. Let's start, shall we?"

"Um, sure. What's first?" she asked, squinting at the board where the instructions had written themselves neatly.

"Pond water, four of those ladybugs, and the packet of asphodel," Luna replied. Ryan poured the pond water in, then counted out four ladybugs and dropped them in the cauldron, as well. She was emptying out the asphodel into her hand when Luna shook her head. "Oh, not the asphodel yet. The ladybugs have to simmer until…there…" The potion slowly turned a nauseating yellow color. "Now add the asphodel. Shred the leaves, first, and throw away the stems." Ryan wasn't sure if Luna was just relaying information, or if she just enjoyed bossing her around. It was impossible to tell anything about that girl. But she added the shredded leaves, and the potion began to bubble madly.

"Why don't _you_ add the powdered wormwood?" she suggested, waving the somewhat hideous odor away. Luna nodded and brought out a measuring scoop.

"All right, then. How many scoops? Oh, two." The potion quit bubbling so suddenly that Ryan checked to see if the fire had somehow gone out. "I say, is the potion _supposed_ to—"

"Partner team of Lovegood and Lapitske…" Professor Snape came by and peered into their cauldron. "Shred the asphodel leaves finer, next time, and go easy on the wormwood." He made a mark on his paper, and moved on. "Coley, what is this rubbish?" Ryan turned. Ben and Finn's potion was full of lumps and expanding like a balloon. Before it burst from the cauldron and found somebody to maul, Snape tapped it with his wand. "_Evanesco_!" It all disappeared. Then he moved on. Ben kicked the table dejectedly. "One point from Ravenclaw. Do not abuse anything in my classroom."


	12. All Hallow's Eve

A/N: This will be a very short chapter, my apologies. I had this fic written out on paper, and this is where it ends, so the updates will also be less frequent. Again, my apologies. And just when it gets good!  Read on…

Chapter 12—All Hallow's Eve

            They straggled to dinner, and for a moment, even Ben forgot to complain.  The Great Hall was bedecked in Halloween splendor, with pumpkins the size of bicycle sheds surrounding the tables, and real live bats fluttering around.  Ryan eyed them nervously; she wasn't a great fan of bats, but she had to admit they were a nice touch.  The smell of turkey and pumpkin was absolutely mouth-watering, as was the sight of all the trimmings and puddings and more.

            "Excuse me…" The Grey Lady, resident Ravenclaw ghost, was heading towards them, passing through students and leaving them shivering in her wake.  Ryan didn't have time to get out of the way, and had the sudden, very unpleasant feeling that she had just been ice-diving.

            "Grey Lady, watch it!" she said, rubbing her upper arms with her hands, trying to scrub the goose-bumps feeling away.

            "I'm terribly sorry," she called over her shoulder, "but I'm late for Sir Nicholas's Death-day party!" and then she walked through a wall and disappeared.

            "His what?" asked Ryan, but Ben wasn't paying attention.

            "So _that's_ why none of the ghosts are here!  Even the Bloody Baron is gone." He was right.  None of the Hogwarts ghosts were in attendance.  Fi poked her in the arm.

            "Hey, Ryan, maybe this means we can use that bathroom now, do you think he invited Moaning Myrtle, too?  That should cheer her up." Ryan entertained herself with a mental image of the mopey bathroom-haunting ghost in a party hat.

            "I don't think anything will ever cheer her up.  I think it's just best to avoid her bathroom altogether." Ben tugged them into sitting positions.

            "Will you two quit going on about ghosts and eat?  It's getting cold." _Because everyone knows the worst thing in the world is quitting cold-turkey_. Ryan giggled at her own private pun, bad as it was.  She considered sharing it with her friends, but doubted that they'd appreciate it.  Instead, she helped herself to some turkey, cranberry sauce, and peas.

            "This night couldn't get any better," sighed Ben in satisfaction as they trooped back to the dormitory.  But as they neared, a crowd blocked the corridor.

            "However, it can get worse," observed Fi. "Isn't that Myrtle's bathroom up ahead?"

            "Oy!  Move!" yelled Ben.  No one paid attention to him in the slightest.  He gave Ryan a push on the shoulders, shoving her forward. "Ryan, you're smaller than me and Finn.  Go see what's going on!" She pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring protests from the older students as she ruthlessly stamped on toes to get her way.

            She was greeted by a terrible sight: Mrs. Norris, that horrible cat of Mr. Filch's, was dangling from a torch sconce, and silver paint shined on the wall above her.  Ryan squinted, trying to make out what it said.  Then she realized that there was a great amount of water on the floor. _Myrtle's throwing a fit again_.   Mrs. Norris was reflected in the water…and so was the message on the wall: _The Chamber has been opened.  Enemies of the Heir, beware_. It meant nothing to her, but the dead cat on the wall was clear enough.

            Other people seemed to know what it meant, however; they pointed first to the cat, then to the wall, all with horrified expressions on their faces.

            But that wasn't all.  There, trapped in the corridor, standing in another puddle of water, was Potter and his two friends.  All three had the look of a cornered convict. _Potter?_ she thought, bewildered, _Potter did this?  It doesn't seem possible…_That Malfoy boy, the one who was rude to her on the train, stepped out of the throng.

            "Enemies of the Heir, beware!" Was it her imagination, or did his eyes flick towards her? "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" There was an intake of breath at his words…and then Filch came.


	13. What's the Chamber?

A/N: This story is going on hiatus for awhile; sorry if this inconveniences anyone! I've got some prior commitments, and other stories that are whining for my attention like annoying younger siblings. So…don't expect updates any time soon. And I'm sorry this is so short! Such is life. Read on!

Chapter 13—What's the Chamber?

"What's going on here? What's going on?" Filch elbowed through the students with scant regard for bruised toes or feelings. The second his eyes lit on his lifeless cat, his expression changed dramatically. It looked as though someone had told him his wife died. He staggered back, hands up around his face. "My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" No one seemed in any great hurry to tell him, and Malfoy slipped back into the crowd, with the air of a mission accomplished. It didn't take Filch long to land his eyes on Potter and his friends. "You!" he yelled, "You! You've murdered my cat! You've _killed_ her! I'll kill _you_! I'll—"

"Argus!" Ryan hadn't seen Dumbledore arrive, but all the students parted to let the Headmaster pass. _How does the man know?_ wondered Ryan admiringly. He passed near her, along with several other teachers. He swept past Potter and his friends, paying them no attention as he gently disentangled Mrs. Norris from the torch sconce. Only then did he deign to look at the delinquent students. Ryan took a good look at them, wondering if any of them actually had killed the cat. Potter looked uneasy about something…maybe he was feeling guilty?

"Come with me, Argus," said Dumbledore, "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasely, Miss Granger." Lockhart stepped up, but McGonagall began scattering the gathered students.

"Go, back to your common rooms! Prefects, make sure no one ventures outside until breakfast tomorrow!" And then she followed Dumbledore, Filch, and Potter. Ryan turned, trying to fight her way through the crowds back to Ben and Finn. But she was too far apart from them, and almost ended up being pushed along with some Gryffindors, had Penny not been on the alert. Ryan felt the back of her robe being tugged on, and the next thing she knew, she was jogging alongside her prefect.

"Careful! You have to learn to go against crowds like this, or there's no telling where you'll end up!" Penny's face was dead white, as though she had seen her death foretold.

"Penelope, what was that? What was that writing talking about? Who killed Mrs. Norris?" she asked. They slowed as they neared the group of Ravenclaws.

"I'll tell you later," she said grimly, and pushed her way through. "Excuse me! Let me through, all of you! I am your prefect!" She managed to make her way to the head of the column, ensuring that she was the first in the common room. "No one go up to your dormitories! Stay right here in the common room! Fi, go get my copy of Hogwarts, A History, and I may not tell mum about your hair." Wordless, and obviously as shaken as her sister, Fi dashed upstairs and returned seconds later with the unwieldy volume. Penny took it and started flipping through pages.

"Everyone, make yourselves comfortable. How many purebloods or older students know about the Chamber of Secrets?" Several people raised their hands, including chatty Ruby.

"Come off it, Penny, you don't believe that fairy tale, do you?"

"I believe what I see, Steinbauer," she said, deadly serious. Ruby backed down, still looking highly skeptical. "Now then, for those of you that don't know…here it is. I'll leave this out, but kindly don't take it out of the common room, please." She cleared her throat and began to read.

"'Concerning the mythical Chamber of Secrets: Salazar Slytherin, whom you have read as one of the four Founders, was rumored to have built a secret chamber, without the permission or knowledge of the other Founders. Contained therein, the legend says, is a monster only the true heir of Slytherin can control.'"

"Why make a secret chamber at all?" argued Padma.

"It talks about that in here, too. Apparently, Slytherin got into an argument about who to let into Hogwarts. He wanted to keep out Muggleborns, all of them. Said they weren't worthy enough to study here…yes, and the monster would…would 'cleanse' the school of…people Slytherin considered undeserving of magical knowledge." There was a silence in the common room. Ryan traded uneasy glances with Ben and Fi. Ben had said Potter could protect them from You-Know-Who, but this was a monster. Who would protect them now?

"Why Filch, then? He isn't Muggleborn, is he?" asked Cho.

"No! Didn't you know, Cho? He's a Squib!" giggled Ruby. Ben laughed at that, and so did Finn, but Ryan didn't quite get it. She would ask Fi, later.

"Come on, Penny. This is all well and good," said Roger Davies, "but where is this chamber?"

"Grow a brain, Roger. No one knows, hence the title 'secret chamber'," snapped Penny. "No trace of one was ever found."

"Then you know what? I think it's just someone's idea of a bad joke."

"I'm not laughing," said Cho, "are you? If it's a joke, it's a very sick one. What about Penny? She's Muggleborn! She could be in danger!" Fi tugged on Ryan's sleeve.

"Come on, let's go up to the dorm," she muttered. "I can tell you all about this." Ryan was glad at least one person could. They slipped quietly out of the common room, where the older set was in a heated debate on whether or not the chamber actually existed. Fi and Ryan had the common room to themselves. Ryan sat on the edge of Fi's bed.

"So…what's up with this chamber of yours?"


	14. The Chamber and the Morning After

A/N: I LIVE! Read on!

Chapter 14—The Chamber and the Morning After

Fi sighed, swinging her legs back and forth before finally tucking them under her, Indian-style. Ryan waited with quickly-fading tolerance, bouncing her foot impatiently.

"Well…you must understand, I don't know the _whole_ thing. I had to sneak Penny's book away from her, because she _hates_ it when I use her things, but I do remember reading about this…this…"

"Chamber of Secrets."

"Yeah. Yeah, the Chamber of Secrets. You heard what Penny read, right?" Ryan nodded.

"Yeah, something about Salazar Slytherin…say, the Slytherin house…"

"Was named after him," finished Fi promptly. "See, there were four Founders of Hogwarts: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and…Slytherin. So, stood to sense that they'd name the houses after themselves."

"But Slytherin never got along, so he tried to hide a monster from everyone? I guess that's no big surprise," said Ryan, thinking of the enmity between Ben and Regina. Fi shrugged uneasily.

"But that's not all, Ryan. The monster is supposed to scourge the school of those…of those unfit to study magic. And he thought that those people were…"

"You and I. Muggleborns. Mudbloods." Fi's eyes widened.

"Don't _say_ that!" she hissed. Ryan leaned back, wondering if she ought to assume the defensive position.

"Say _what_?"

"That…that last thing. _That word_."

"What, Mud—?" She stopped as Fi looked like she was having a seizure. "What's wrong with _that word_?"

"It's like a wizarding swear-word," she explained, looking ill at ease. "You might as well go around calling black people the n-word."

"Oh…sorry…I didn't know it was that bad. Someone called me that, and I knew it must have been bad, but I didn't know it was _that_ bad." Fi was suddenly indignant. The girl's moods seemed to shift from one extreme to the other; it was very hard for the laid-back Ryan to keep up with her.

"Someone called you a…that? Who? Was it Elise?"

"No…Elise hasn't been a princess to me, but even _she _hasn't called me that. It was a second-year boy, Draco Malfoy." Fi's lips twisted in distaste.

"Oh, I've heard of him. Slytherin through and through. He's nasty to Muggleborns for a hobby. When did you run into him?"

"On the train. He actually helped me with my trunk, until I told him about my mum." Fi opened her mouth to say something, then shut it as their dorm-mates began to trickle back in. Elise was first, smiling smugly at the both of them. Thankfully, she said nothing. Next in was Luna, smiling vaguely, as though the night's happenings hadn't really registered with her at all. Ryan wondered if she was even worried in the slightest. _Well, why should she_? thought Ryan grumpily. _She's not in danger from a mysterious monster over a thousand years old._ Now, there was a thought. Hogwarts was almost older than time, it seemed to her; could a monster from the Founders' Era still even be alive today? She wanted to ask, but Fi was already heading back to her bed, changing into her pyjamas. That was a good idea. Ryan reached under her pillow and pulled out hers. Just as she did every night, Elise snickered at them.

"There's no need to _advertise_ that you're Muggleborn," she said. "I'm sure Slytherin's monster will know without your help."

"What sort of monster do you think it is?" asked Ryan, trying to avoid a confrontation. Not tonight. Elise shrugged. "Well…maybe it's dead," said Ryan hopefully. "It must be over a thousand years old…nothing can live that long, right?"

"Don't be dense, Lapitske," snarled Elise. "Plenty of things could live that long. I hear phoenixes are pretty long-lived."

"I wouldn't mind if it was a phoenix," said Luna, almost to herself, brushing her hair absent-mindedly. "Phoenixes aren't so scary. I've heard they're quite lovely."

"I'm not completely Muggleborn," said Ryan. "I'm a half-blood."

"Then it'll only half-kill you," said Elise, glad to distract from the (fairly good) point Luna made. Maybe Lovegood wasn't as spacey as she seemed.

"We should _not_ be arguing," said Fi crossly. "We should all be friends. We're going to be living together for the next seven years, you know."

"Some of us might not be," said Elise slyly. Then she climbed into bed and pulled the hangings shut. Luna watched this as if nothing could ever be half so fascinating. Then she put down her hairbrush.

"Well, _I _don't want you to die," she said serenely.

"That makes two of us," said Ryan, pulling her own hangings shut. _As if hangings will stop any millennia-old creature._ She tried to shake that thought away. She would _not_ start jumping at shadows. There was no chamber. _It's just a sick joke, like Roger Davies said._

_But_ _I'm not laughing…

* * *

_

The next day, breakfast was a subdued, hushed affair, as everyone put their heads together to murmur about the Chamber, Slytherin's monster, and the cryptic message on the wall. Not to mention Mrs. Norris, who wasn't really dead at all, but petrified. If there was a difference, no one seemed to be able to tell Ryan what it was.

The post came in as it always did, though there seemed to be double the number of owls as usual. Obviously, more than a few students managed to send off word of the attack to their parents. Ben and Finn each got a letter, and Penny passed the one she had received to Fi. And, to her utmost surprise, an unfamiliar owl landed in front of Ryan and presented her a letter.

"For me?" asked Ryan, astonished. The owl stood in front of her mutely, offering the letter tied to its leg. "Oh. I guess so." There was her name, written in large letters: Ryan Lapitske. She untied the letter, then poured some dry cornflakes for the owl. "Thank you very much." The owl crunched through a mouthful of cornflakes, then took off out the window again.

"Did you write your mum?" asked Ben curiously. "But you don't have an owl. Did you sneak down to the owlery?"

"Of course not. I didn't write anyone…" she stopped, trailing off. "Wait, this is my _dad's_ handwriting!"

"The one in America?" asked Finn through a mouthful of toast.

"How many dads do you think I have?" demanded Ryan, ripping the letter open. Both boys shrugged, but Fi leaned in, reading over Ryan's shoulder.


	15. A Letter From America

Chapter 15—A Letter From America

_Dear Ryan,_

_I've only just received your mum's post, so excuse my lateness in writing to you. She tells me you're now attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Darling, I simply couldn't be prouder! A full-blooded witch in the family! I suppose this means I owe you an explanation._

_I am a wizard, as I'm sure you've deduced, as was your grandfather. Neither of us attended Hogwarts; your grandfather went to an academy near Manaus, Brazil, though he was British in parentage, and rose within the Brazilian Ministry under an assumed name. When I was born, he sent me off to Switzerland for boarding school, and I was accepted into the Interlaken Academy of Magical Arts there. I moved to London after I finished school, and met your mother._

_I'm currently in America, though I'm not doing what your mother thinks I am. She never knew my true occupation, or my status as wizard. If you truly wish to know, I am doing some business in the American Ministry, as a favour to some old school friends of mine. I wish I could have seen you off. Hogwarts is a marvellous school, and I want you to study hard and make your mother and me proud._

_I'm wrangling to get Christmas off, so come home, and I can tell you everything more fully. Your mum writes that you and Jon were believers from the start; that's my girl! Pay attention to your professors, and write back when you get the chance._

_Much love,_

_Papa_

Ryan re-folded the letter. What about that timing? She confirmed her half-blood status on the day where everyone who wasn't a pureblood lived in fear. Her father wanted her to write back; should she tell him about the attack? It was just a cat, after all, and he couldn't tell her anything new. He'd never gone to Hogwarts, nor had her grandfather. But didn't Malfoy say that his aunt knew a Lapitske? Had that been her father? But he was in Switzerland for school; how would he have known any British witches?

"Well, that tells me everything and nothing," she said. "I guess I should write back, though…"

"It really was your dad, then?" asked Finn. Ryan nodded dumbly. "And he's a wizard?" Ryan nodded again.

"I think we should be getting to class," said Fi, and she stood up and walked off without another word. Ryan watched her go with a frown.

"Are we supposed to follow?" she asked.

"Nope," said Ben breezily. Finn, surprisingly, agreed.

"I don't think so. I think Fi is just scared."

"Scared? Of my dad?"

"No, Ryan, she's scared of this Chamber. She probably thinks that you're protected now, because of your dad." Ryan's brow furrowed.

"But…that doesn't make sense. Slytherin just wanted purebloods. I'm still at risk, and…how do you know all that, anyway?" she demanded. When would Finn have had a chance to talk to Fi and learn all this?

"I don't. I'm just guessing."

"Hell of a guess," said Ben. Finn twitched instinctively at the swear; Ryan suppressed a giggle. "Who cares? She's so moody, anyway." Ryan glared at him. He shrugged, as if that defended everything. "Well, it's true."

"She's right," said Ryan, "we _should _be getting to class." Ben sighed.

"Transfiguration. I can't wait."

* * *

Class was subdued that day, and unnaturally quiet, as though speaking would bring down a torrent of Slytherin-born chaos. In fact, Ben commented that they might all have been petrified themselves, for all the life they showed. It was a poor joke; Robina—and most of the class—glared at him, a few even turning their wands on him, though that course of action was quickly snuffed by McGonagall. Mel turned dead white, and was rendered incapable of doing magic for the rest of the period. McGonagall took five points away from Ravenclaw, increasing his classmates' enmity.

"Ben, you better learn to keep your mouth shut, or it won't be Slytherin you'll have to be worried about," muttered Ryan in a low voice, tapping her hairpin twice. She couldn't do magic when she didn't concentrate; instead of turning into a feather, her hairpin somehow sprouted legs and began to scuttle along the desk. "Catch that!" Ben didn't, glaring at her obstinately. It was up to Finn to scoop it up before it fell off the desk. McGonagall came by, frowning disapprovingly, and tapped the struggling hairpin once, reverting it back to its legless form.

"Keep your head about you, Lapitske," she said reprovingly. "Magic is no toy to be used at whim, particularly not when you give cognisance to hairpins." Ryan smiled, relieved that no points had been taken.

"Yes, professor." Ben scowled.

"How come _I _say something and get points taken away, but _you_ mess up a spell and get off with a warning? What's cognisance mean, anyway?" Ryan shrugged.

"I have no idea. On both counts. Maybe because I don't say stupid things about cats getting petrified."

"Good Lord, it's just a _cat_! And a mean devil of a cat, too! Ask _anyone_ here if they'll miss her. Go on, ask!"

"Ben, you're missing the point," said Finn calmly. "The point isn't that Mrs. Norris is gone. The point is that she's been attacked, and no one knows who or how."

"Want to know how?" hissed Ben, keeping a weather eye on McGonagall. "The Slytherins, that's how! It's their bloody Founder that built this stupid chamber! I say, take them all and lock them away until someone 'fesses up!"

"Must you three continue to chatter?" asked McGonagall bad-temperedly. "Five more points from Ravenclaw." They were silent for the rest of the class.

* * *

Colin popped up as they exited the castle for Herbology. Ryan jumped backwards. He always seemed to have a knack for springing from the most surprising places. He seemed positively breathless with excitement.

"Ryan, Ben, Finn! You heard what happened last night, right?"

"Heard it? I saw it," said Ryan grimly. "And it's nothing to be so happy about."

"Happy?" he looked affronted. "I'm not _happy_! Do you know about the Chamber of Secrets? I got the library's very last copy of Hogwarts: A History, so I can tell you all about it!"

"I've heard," said Ryan stiffly.

"And _Harry's_ been accused!" said Colin. "Can you believe it? Harry Potter! He defeated You-Know-Who, and they think he's _attacking students_? It's so stupid, don't you think?"

"No, I don't," said Ben mulishly. "In fact, I bet Potter's the one behind it." Colin and Ryan gasped in unison.

"Ben, you don't really think that!" whispered Ryan, scandalized. "You can't just accuse people willy-nilly!"

"I do think it," he muttered rebelliously. "Saint Potter, you know? Seems a bit too done up. He can't really be _that_ great. I wouldn't be surprised in the least if he turned out to be this 'Heir of Slytherin' everyone's on about." Colin looked close to tears.

"Don't _say _that Ben, it's not true! It can't be!"

"Grow up, Colin!" he yelled. Ryan had never seen—nor thought to see—him this angry. She exchanged glances with Finn, who shrugged helplessly. "Sometimes, you have to face reality. Did you cry when your mum told you Santa Claus wasn't real?"

"_No_!" Colin practically screamed. "I don't believe you! I _know _Harry, he's in my house, he's a good boy, he's brilliant at Quidditch, he _saved_ the wizarding world!" Ryan decided this was enough. She reached forward and latched onto Ben's arm.

"Ben, _stop this_," she said, teeth gritted. "You're just baiting him." He tried to jerk out of her grip but she held on firmly, and Finn caught his other arm. "Colin, go on to the greenhouse. We'll catch you up when class begins." Colin didn't need a second urging. He took off running, an action made awkward by the ever-present camera banging against his side. Ryan turned slightly until she was looking Ben straight in the eye. "All right, Ben, what was that?"

"What was what?" he said obstinately.

"Look, Ben, we're all a little on edge," said Finn, the very soul of reason, "but there's no need to go crazy."

"I'm not crazy!" he protested indignantly. "It's that stupid little Gryffindor with his stupid little camera up in everyone's business! He needs a dose of reality. Being a wizard doesn't automatically make you immortal, like a fairy tale. I hate these stupid Muggleborns, thinking they can ride unicorns and talk to fairies, that they'll have a godmother who makes everything better! Sometimes…sometimes, I think Slytherin had the right idea!" With that, he ripped free of both Ryan and Finn's grips and stalked off to the greenhouses. Ryan sighed, feeling faintly ill, and touched her robe pocket, where the letter from her father—a man she only dimly remembered—resided. How could friendships spring and be sabotaged so quickly? Was Potter really guilty? Well, one thing was certain: someone was. Someone was responsible for the tension in the school, and the petrified Mrs. Norris. Whether or not that someone was Potter, _someone_ should be punished.


	16. Discord and Harmony

Chapter 16—Discord and Harmony

"Ginny Weasely? Has anyone seen Miss Weasely?" Professor Sprout glared around at them all, as though each and every student present had a hand in her truancy. Colin looked around, startled, but all it took was a perfunctory scan of the room to notice that her flaming red hair was absent. The Gryffindors all shook their heads.

"She…she was in Charms," said Colin hesitantly, "and that was only last period…"

"Well, she is not here now, and I intend to find out why!" said Sprout. "Don't touch anything, or it's detention for all of you!" she barked, and strode out of the greenhouse. Immediately, people began muttering: Was Ginny Weasely the latest victim? Was she lying in an abandoned corridor somewhere, paralyzed, or petrified? Colin looked faintly ill. Ryan patted his hand soothingly.

"I'm sure it's all a mistake, Colin," she whispered. "You know, this place is so big, it's possible she just got lost. Or maybe she's just stuck in a staircase! Did I tell you about the time that happened to Ben and me on the first day…?" She related the tale, trying to make Colin laugh, or at least to calm him down. It didn't work. He only half-listened, then jumped up towards the end.

"Look!" he cried shrilly, pointing, "It's Ginny and Sprout! She's okay!" Everyone, with the exception of Ben, swarmed towards the door. There she was, right as rain, though slightly pale in the face. _Probably from fright_, thought Ryan. _Professor Sprout looks angry._ Indeed, the diminutive woman was pulling Ginny along, though they were of a height, as though she weighed no more than an unruly dog.

"Trying to skip class, were we?" she remonstrated, "Trying to hide out by Hagrid's hut? Amongst the chickens, no less! Well, it's certainly detention for you, missy, and I'd love to see you explain to Minerva! Twenty points from Gryffindor!" The students from Gryffindor house groaned.

"I—I'm sorry," stuttered Ginny, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wasn't trying to skive off, honestly! I was…I was coming down from Charms, I swear, and the next thing I knew…the next thing I knew, you were there! I swear, I don't know how I got down to Hagrid's hut, I don't remember that at all!"

"Now see here, Miss Weasely, I won't have you dreaming up stories, or it will be more points from Gryffindor, do you understand? Don't remember? It takes more than a silly tale to pull the wool over the eyes of Pomona Sprout!" Ginny nodded miserably, and shuffled over to the most remote corner of the greenhouse. Colin rushed off to join her. Something bright caught Ryan's eye. As Ginny's too-large, much-patched robe dragged along the floor, Ryan swore she saw a hint of something silver along the hem.

* * *

They had Charms next, with the Slytherins. Ryan had been dreading this, and she was right to fear: the tension between the two houses was so potent that it made Transfiguration seem light and carefree. The Ravenclaws all sequestered themselves on the opposite side of the room, studiously avoiding making eye-contact for any reason. Ryan took her usual seat next to Ben and Finn, but couldn't help surveying her _other _classmates. O'Reilly, the Slytherin girl who accidentally spilled ink on her, happened to look up at the same time. Ryan immediately averted her eyes, trying to absorb herself with the _Wingardium_ _Leviosa_ charm. They were gradually trying to lift heavier and heavier items; today, they were working with stones the size of her first. To her disquiet, Flitwick was wearing an old-fashioned metal helm. _That can't bode well_.

She soon saw that he had reason to do so. Back-firing spells soon sent shrapnel flying across the room. Ryan took refuge under her desk, hoping Flitwick didn't see, and didn't require her to resurface and attempt the spell for herself. Finn managed to melt his stone again, and she scooted to the side as it burnt through the desk, dripping to the floor next to her with an awful _hiss_ noise. Fi joined her.

"He's obviously done this before," said Fi, raising her voice to be heard over the general pandemonium. "Why does he think this is a good idea?" Ryan was about to reply when a scream cut through the air, and all activity ceased. Fi and Ryan poked their heads out, trying to determine the cause of the lull.

It was O'Reilly. She was clutching the side of her head, blood streaming down half of her face. It was a gruesome sight. Flitwick hurried over, as fast as his short stature would allow.

"Now, now, O'Reilly, I'm sure it's just fine…a cut…" It certainly didn't _look_ fine; in fact, it looked like O'Reilly was losing half of her blood. "Hospital wing! Madame Pomfrey will sort you out in a jiffy. Someone help Miss O'Reilly, get her to the hospital wing…" Ryan wiggled out from under the desk when no one seemed ready to leap up.

"I will, professor." Ben kicked her ankle, but she didn't even look at him. She kept her gaze fixed on Professor Flitwick, who looked rather surprised.

"You, Miss Lapitske?"

"Yes, sir. Me."

"You know the way, then?"

"Yes, sir," she lied.

"Well, all right, get to it, then. Five points to Ravenclaw." Ryan dithered over whether or not to take her bag, then decided just to leave it there. Doubtless, Fi or Finn would get it for her. Ben would probably just spill ink on it, in this state. She walked over and gingerly took O'Reilly's arm, the one that wasn't covered in blood.

"Well…come on, then, this way." She'd never been to the hospital wing before, but she knew where it was, or at least, the general direction. The halls were eerily silent, not a soul to be seen, so different from the packed corridors she'd grown accustomed to during class changes. "I'm…I'm Ryan," she said, trying to break the silence. "Ryan Lapitske."

"Amena O'Reilly," said her companion, sniffling quietly. Ryan drew out her handkerchief and offered it to Amena.

"Here…you can try and stop the bleeding…"

"Thanks," said Amena stiffly, dabbing it over the cut, holding it in place and trying to wipe off her face with the excess fabric.

"So…what happened?"

"I got hit with a rock on the side of my head. It _feels_ like a bit is still in there." Ryan winced.

"Ouch. I'm sorry."

"Yes, well. Magic is dangerous. McGonagall was right."

"It's horrible when teachers are right," said Ryan. "She took points from Ravenclaw because I was talking with my friends about…" She changed what she was going to say from 'Slytherin's monster' to "the Chamber." Amena shivered.

"Oh! That Chamber! And Mrs. Norris." Ryan hadn't expected that reaction. Wasn't Amena a Slytherin? Shouldn't she be happy that this terror was unleashed? Apparently not.

"Yeah. That Chamber. Do you know what the word 'cognisance' means?"

"Never heard it. It's so horrible, because everyone knows that the Chamber was built by Slytherin, so now everyone thinks we're all of us murderers." Ryan looked down guiltily, but Amena didn't notice. "We don't even trust _each other_. Did you see how no one wanted to help me? From my own house!" That seemed to be more upsetting than the Chamber. "Everyone's so suspicious, and it only happened yesterday! If someone isn't caught soon, this whole place will explode." It was odd, hearing her own thoughts from someone else's mouth.

"I know exactly what you mean," murmured Ryan. "One of my friends has already snapped."

"That's horrible. We shouldn't be fighting each other, we should be finding this Heir of Slytherin."

"The Heir of Slytherin? Surely someone should know who that is. Slytherin is famous! Hasn't someone traced his genealogy? It shouldn't be that hard…"

"But you're forgetting that these people lived a thousand years ago. Do you know _your _heritage back to 992?" Ryan thought again of the letter in her pocket.

"I'm _still _learning my heritage." Amena looked at her with interest, scrutinizing.

"So what are you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"You mean, am I pureblood? I'm a half-blood. My mum is as Muggle as Muggle gets, and my dad went to Interlaken Something-or-other in Switzerland."

"Can't say I've ever heard of that school. Well, personally, I don't care if you're pureblood, Muggleborn, or house elf. I just want to be an international magical law enforcer. That's what my dad does, and it's the coolest job ever. He gets to travel all around the world, chasing criminals, working for the Ministry." Ryan nodded, understanding maybe half of that.

"Sounds like a good job." Amena's eyes were shining.

"It _is._ I've wanted to work in International Magical Law Enforcement since I was…really little. But you need outstanding grades, and a clean record. I've never studied this hard!"

"Isn't Ravenclaw the house for smart people? You should be with me!"

"But Slytherin rewards ambition," replied Amena breezily. "Hey, it's right there, you're walking past it!" Ryan made a sharp turn, and pushed the door to the hospital wing open.

"Madame Pomfrey?" she said, looking around for someone, anyone. "Hello?" she said a bit louder.

"I'm right here, dear, no need to shout." Madame Pomfrey was a stout, matronly woman, who looked more than capable of taking care of any magical mishaps, no matter how severe. "Now then, what's the problem?"

"Well, we just came from Charms…we're learning to make things fly, and…" Madame Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.

"Is he _still_ using stones? It's a mercy no one's been killed, yet. Come here, sit down, I'll clean your face off and we'll take care of that nick…" A wave of her wand, and most of the blood was gone. Ryan was amazed to see that the cut was no longer than the tip of her little finger. "Ah, yes, a wound to the temple. Lot of blood, not very serious." She pulled out a bottle from what looked like a medical utility belt around her waist and dabbed a bit on the cut. Amena gasped, then the cut faded and scabbed over. "There! That's all in order, no damage done. Here, come with me, and we'll give your face a proper wash. Your friend can just wait out here." Ryan did, taking a seat on one of the numerous narrow cots. They were all empty, except for one across from her. There was a small little form, covered by a blanket. A small, cat-like form…she shivered and looked away, to wherever Madame Pomfrey and Amena had gone.

She reappeared a moment later, looking as though she'd never been injured. The cut was almost invisible, and the blood was all gone.

"I'll clean your handkerchief and give it back," she promised, apologetically showing her the blood-soaked bit of cloth. Ryan had almost forgotten about it.

"Oh, yes. Thanks."

"Thanks for letting me borrow it."

"Oh, sure." They were silent as they made their way back to Charms. As they stood on a shifting staircase, waiting for it to come to rest at its destination, the bell rang.

"Charms is over!" said Amena.

"I have Defence, next," said Ryan at the same time. Amena immediately turned around to head back the way they came, while Ryan still had to head upstairs. She paused at the foot as students streamed out of their classrooms.

"See you tomorrow!" she called. Ryan grinned, hoping she'd been correct in her assumption about Fi or Finn.

"Here's hoping."


	17. That Magical Word

Chapter 17—That Magical Word

Ryan slipped into Defence a second after the bell rang, skidding to a halt in front of her desk and tripping over herself trying to get seated. She noticed gratefully that her bag was sitting there, neatly packed and ready for her. The neatness denoted Fi's handiwork; Ben or Finn would have doubtless just shoved everything in haphazardly.

"Ah, young Miss Lapitske! Tardiness is not an attractive habit! I should know," added Professor Lockhart, winking roguishly. Ryan felt herself blushing dully.

"S—Sorry, Professor," she stuttered, somewhat out of breath, "but—but I had to run all the back from the hospital wing—maybe Professor Flitwick told you?"

"Hospital wing? Feeling poorly? Maybe I can help! I've performed countless little spells and charms, saved many peoples' lives, you know…"

"No, no, it wasn't me," she said hastily, eyeing the wand he was brandishing with a bit of trepidation, trying to recall if she had ever seen him use it. She realized that she hadn't. "It was a classmate. I was escorting her there. I'm sorry I'm late…" He sighed and put his wand away, looking highly disappointed.

"Well, you're really a bit young for heroics, however good you think your little deeds make you look. But never let it be said that Gilderoy Lockhart is not an understanding gentleman! Only five points from Ravenclaw." She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, flabbergasted. He thought she took Amena to the hospital wing for…appearances? Brownie points? She could eventually think of nothing to say that would help the situation and pretended to be absorbed in finding a quill pen.

Ben snorted with laughter behind her. Suspicious, she turned to look at him, and then realized that he wasn't laughing at _her_; he was laughing at the professor. She smiled a bit at him, and received a smile in return.

Just like that, she knew, Ben was back to his old self—however much of an improvement that might have been. She turned back around, lest Professor Lockhart catch her attention wandering, and watched as poor Fi had to play-act as a young girl who he cured of speaking only in a series of high-pitched whistling noises, presumably the work of some obscure spell cast upon her at birth.

"…but I knew exactly what it was—recognized it instantly, you know, if you'll read the seventh chapter, you'll see the symptoms. Simple, really, for a wizard of my calibre to wave my wand—perform the counter-charm—" He waved his wand in a haphazard way, and the next second, every desk in the front row vanished, their occupants smacking against the floor an instant later.

Over cries of surprise and pain (Elise Duffy's copy of Holiday with Hags landed square on her chest, knocking the wind right out of her), Professor Lockhart tried to retain order and conjure the desks again. He succeeded in neither. Fi tried to lean over and help Elise; Ryan braced herself for the inevitable slew of insults, but was pleasantly surprised: even Elise, it seemed, knew when to accept help.

"Thank you," she said stiffly, as if the words were a foreign language she hadn't quite gotten the grasp of. Fi nodded uneasily.

"You're welcome…are you all right? I'm sure Professor Lockhart could fix—"

"No, he can't!" burst Elise. "What's the point of this stupid class? I'm not learning how to defend myself against _anything_, and I doubt the monster in the Chamber is a whistling three-year-old!"

At the mention of the Chamber, there was a lull in the room. Elise looked around, wide-eyed, then turned to the professor.

"Sir? What's in there, do you think? You're the one who's the expert on all these monsters…what's the beast of Slytherin?" Everyone was listening avidly now, as they always did when the subject of Slytherin's monster arose. He looked about, quite nonplussed at the sudden show of interest, at the intensity of everyone's focus being directed at him, not to adore and admire him, but waiting for him to impart some knowledge.

"Er, well, clearly it's…it's a…it doesn't exist," he said finally, firmly. "It's all a superstition...there's absolutely nothing to be worried about, children; clearly the culprit is human, and if I knew who he or she was…" he struck a brave pose, "Well, let's just say I'd have plenty of fodder for another book." Another wink. The class looked far from at ease.

"If it's a person, why haven't we caught them yet? Surely Dumbledore—" began Ben, but everyone started speaking on top of him, soon disintegrating into bickering and arguments.

"Yeah, can't Dumbledore catch them?"

"What if it _is _a monster?"

"What's the spell used to petrify someone?"

"Why can't they be un-petrified?"

"Stupid, yes they can, didn't you hear Madame Pomfrey—"

"Oi, watch who you call stupid—"

"Watching you right now, aren't I?"

"But Dumbledore—"

"The monster—"

"Slytherin—"

"SILENCE!" Everyone jumped at Lockhart's roar, Ryan included. Watching the fighting like a spectator at a match, she had forgotten he was even there. "Children! Enough worrying yourselves about something that will never be a danger!"

"But Mrs. Norris—"

"Kindly do _not _interrupt me, Mr. Coley! Listen to me: the danger is not real. The Chamber is just a fairy tale, of sorts, and nothing for you to worry your little heads over. Do I make myself clear? Besides, if there _is _any danger, which is unlikely, you are quite safe. With myself and Dumbledore at the helm, the creature will never dare to show its face again."

"Again?" said Elise icily, "then you admit it's shown itself once already?" The bell rang, and Professor Lockhart ushered them all out before slamming the classroom doors loudly behind them. Ryan jogged ahead a bit and caught up with Elise.

"Elise…are you worried? About the monster, I mean?" Elise gave her a withering glare, but it didn't contain the usual amount of spite.

"Don't be stupid, Lapitske; _I'm _not a Muggleborn."

"Neither was the cat," Ryan pointed out. "I was just wondering, is all. I think we're all worried, there's no shame in it."

"I am _safe_," snapped Elise. "I have no _need _to worry, now get out of my way." Ryan nodded to herself as Elise dashed away, a bit of panic in her eyes. Fi popped up next to her.

"Are we getting through to the ice princess?" she quipped, shifting her bag to the other shoulder.

"I think we are," said Ryan quietly. "Oh, by the way, thanks for getting my bag after Charms. Load off my mind." Fi smiled.

"Wasn't me."

"What?"

"I didn't get your bag; Ben did. Practically tore it out of my hands when I tried. I _think _that's his way of apologizing, silly boy. Ryan smiled, a genuine, care-free smile. It felt good.

"I always knew he wasn't so bad," she whispered. Fi shrugged dubiously.

"If you say so. I guess he has his moments, like that. Come on, lunch time, and I'm starved. I hope they have chips, I've been craving them for days…"

There were, indeed, chips. Fi gave a sigh of contentment and set to marinating them in ketchup and salt; Ryan preferred hers straight, while Finn and Ben coated theirs with salt and pepper. The fish and pasties were snubbed. Over delicious crispy-fried potatoes, the beginning of the day faded, and the conversation turned to lighter, happier things…like the upcoming Quidditch game. Ben was entirely enthusiastic, to the point where he was even polite to Fi.

"You _have _to come see it, everyone will be there! It's the most amazing sport, I swear, you'll be hooked after one game. Come on, Clearwater, be a sport, yeah? Even _you _can't hate it!" Well, polite after a fashion.

Ryan has already sworn she would go, buckling under the pressure of both Ben and Finn's pleading. She wasn't a sports kind of girl, but in this new world, who knew? Maybe it would be more interesting than those rubbish football games her mum sometimes watched when Ireland was playing. She still wasn't quite following it; the red ball did what now? And how on earth did a small black ball hit people on its own? And what kind of stupid name was a 'Snitch'? Every time she asked, Ben would wave it off, saying only that she'd 'get it' when she saw it.

Quidditch fever didn't only affect her housemates. Colin was going mad as well, though at least his house was actually _playing_; the match was Gryffindor and Slytherin, but her house was still going bonkers over it. In fact, that seemed to be the only topic people were capable of talking about: Quidditch, Quidditch, Quidditch.

"You're going, right, Ryan? Right? I've heard it's going to be amazing! Harry Potter's playing!" It always came back to Harry Potter, eventually. "He's the youngest seeker in a hundred years, he must be really good, you should see him at the practices, it's fantastic! As soon as I get these pictures developed, you'll see!"

She hoped that this stupid sport was all it was cracked up to be. If the game ended and she didn't see someone die or a pink dancing elephant juggling rabid baboons, she was going to be sorely disappointed.


End file.
